Lionheart
by indyjones1990
Summary: Harry's fifth year is a week away. Dumbledore is worried; is the Boy Who Lived ready for the war to come? Can he handle the losses a war always brings? Severus Snape thinks that an orphan from a war-torn United States might be exactly what Harry needs. Jonathan Sheppard Lionheart has been in a war since he was 11. Can he help Harry defeat Voldemort? (AU) *NEW CHAPTER 11*
1. Prologue

_The Triwizard Tournament was last school year. Harry watching Cedric Diggory die at the hands of Lord Voldemort's servant made Albus Dumbledore wonder; was The Boy Who Lived ready for the war to come? Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were excellent friends to Harry, but Dumbledore worried that they weren't ready for war, either._

 _In America, a civil war has raged for the last 4 years for control of MACUSA and the Continental Wizarding Army and Navy. Pureblood families formed the "Restorative Wizarding Army," and fought to eliminate and enslave Non-Maj born wizards and their sympathizers in an effort to preserve their clean family lines and take control of the United States. The war ended four months ago, and the Continental Wizarding Army won; but almost fifty thousand wizards and witches have died, and thousands of orphans now fill wizarding institutions across the nation, seeking a home and hoping for a peaceful life.  
_

 _Severus Snape believes one of these orphans can help Harry with the coming war. Can a young American wizard, haunted by war and loss, but driven by the hope of a bright and peaceful future, fight with Harry to bring down one last tyrant? How would this wizard's involvement change the events of the story?_

 _Starts in Hogwarts fifth year, merges some movie elements with the books, and changes to cannon are to come._

o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o

In seven days, Hogwarts would once again be bustling with student activity. The summer holiday was coming to a close, and while Albus Dumbledore was excited to have his students back, his primary concern revolved around a young raven-haired boy with a lighting bolt scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter had suffered much in his young life, but last year was a truly difficult series of events. From being entered illegally and having to compete in the Tri-Wizards tournament, to watching Cedric Diggory die at the hands of Peter Pettigrew, servant to Lord Voldemort, and finding out that a mentor had been kidnapped and impersonated by another servant of Voldemort, Dumbledore knew that Harry had been put through the emotional wringer. What worried Dumbledore even more was that more was certainly to come; and the list of capable fighters Harry knew, could trust completely, and could be close to him at all times was dangerously short.

So short, in fact, that even Severus Snape had become concerned. Snape sat across from Dumbledore in his office, staring at the headmaster with an emotionless mask. "I believe we need to… Recruit some assistance for Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore was mildly surprised by this. "Severus, are you becoming genuinely concerned for Mr. Potter?" The fact that Severus Snape was not one of Harry Potter's largest admirers was well known by the headmaster. In fact, Dumbledore was one of the few people alive that knew why Severus was helping him in the protection of young Harry.

Severus almost smirked, but quickly reined it in. "No. But, as we have discussed, Mr. Potter's survival is of the utmost importance. I am not convinced that Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley are sufficient in their talents to aid Mr. Potter in the coming war."

Dumbledore nodded, glancing at Fawkes. Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix, was paying very close attention to the conversation, which struck Dumbledore as odd; Fawkes was usually uninterested in such matters. Perhaps the small bond the Phoenix shared with Harry, working together to kill the Basilisk that had lived in the Chamber of Secrets, made Fawkes more interested in the affairs of Harry Potter. "Perhaps you are right, Severus. However, I do not know where we could recruit someone of sufficient talent that would be to be with Harry all the time."

Severus removed a letter from his robes. "I have already taken the liberty to find such a wizard." He handed the envelope over to Dumbledore.

It was a large, Colonial-era folded envelope, with a wax seal that had been gently peeled open. The wax bore the seal of MACUSA, the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Dumbledore gave Severus a surprised look. "From America?"

Snape gave a slow nod. "The civil war between Pureblood and Muggleborn wizards and witches in America has created an orphan crisis. Many young wizards and witches now have no family, and are being tended to by various academies. Many of these orphans fought for the Continental Wizarding Army and Navy. Many showed..." Snape paused. "Extreme prowess in combat, potions and healing. I've had correspondence with the headmaster at Ilvermorny to see if he had any knowledge of a witch or wizard that would suit our needs. This young wizard is his first, and highest, recommendation. General Greylock of the Continental Wizarding Army sent this dossier."

Dumbledore slowly opened the letter. It contained several pages of information regarding this young wizard. He flipped the pages open and began examining the first page. His name was Jonathan Sheppard Lionheart. A moving picture occupied the upper left corner of the first page, showing his face, and then zooming out to show his entire body. Dumbledore looked at his face. His hair reminded him of Harry's in that it was all over the place. Dark brown hair with shades of red topped the young wizard. A part, mostly down the middle but favoring the left side of his head, with a twist at the front, meant that his right eye was almost hidden under long bangs, while some errant bangs covered the left side of his forehead. His hair stood up in every direction at the back of his head.

A scar that cut through his left eyebrow and a tanned complexion gave him the look of a young man unafraid of adventure. His eyes were piercing blue; yet they seemed troubled, and rimmed with bags, as if he was exhausted when his picture was taken. A slim, rounded nose sat under those eyes; it seemed to be slightly off to the right, as if it had been broken and healed almost, but not quite, perfectly. A strong but slightly rounded jawline finished off the face, with another scar in the crevice of his chin.

The photo zoomed out to show his whole body. His body was lean, but he was also muscled. Not like a bodybuilder, but like someone who was constantly moving. ' _Most likely constantly fighting.'_ The way he stood was strange; he seemed alert yet also relaxed, like a lion after chasing his prey. His clothes were stereotypical American outdoorsman; leather hiking boots capped by jeans, a blue textured henley sat underneath a battered leather jacket with a flag on each shoulder. On his right shoulder was an American flag. His left shoulder held a yellow flag with a wand being held with one hand, lightning bolts to the left and right with sparks coming out of the top of the wand. The bottom of the flag held a colonial American war slogan: "Don't Tread on Me."

What caught Dumbledore's attention most were his wands. He counted at least three. One was sitting in a holster strapped to Jonathan's right thigh, almost like a cowboy from the Old West. The second was slid into a sleeve compartment on the left arm of his leather jacket, and the third, while concealed, was down on his ankle, most likely in a holster, the handle printing through his jeans. _'Why would a wizard need three wands?'_ Dumbledore wondered. He began to read the information on Jonathan silently. Fawkes flew over and rested on his right shoulder, intrigued to know more.

It took Dumbledore fifteen minutes to read all the information on Jonathan. With shaking hands, Dumbledore set the papers back down on his desk. The normally cheerful headmaster had tears in his eyes. He removed a handkerchief from a desk drawer and dabbed his eyes. "You read this, Severus?"

"Naturally."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I have a hard time believing someone so young could have endured so much." He looked Severus right in the eyes. "Bringing him here, for what we're about to face, is cruel. He doesn't need more war. We cannot ask this from him."

Severus remained emotionless. "The Headmaster of Ilvermorny anticipated your reaction. He requested I give you this letter; for your eyes only."

Snape handed Dumbledore a new letter, unopened. The crest of Ilvermorny was embedded in the wax sealing this smaller envelope. Dumbledore opened it and read it silently. It read:

 _Headmaster Dumbledore,_

 _We have not yet had the pleasure to meet, however I know your reputation as a kind and caring educator. It is understandable that you will have concerns as to Ranger Lionheart's mental health and wellbeing given all that he has endured._

 _I am writing this letter to inform you that your fears are unfounded. Jonathan Lionheart is a true warrior at heart, who believes strongly in honor, freedom, fairness and liberty for all. He is a powerful force to be reckoned with, both personally and as a wizard. He does everything with all of his being. Despite his difficult childhood so far, he is capable, though understandably trepidatious, of having and loving close friends. He shows love and kindness to the orphans at this school, and is fiercely protective of them. He is a danger only to those that threaten the people close to him, or those that cannot defend themselves. He has, and will, fight for freedom and peace, no matter the cost to himself._

 _Your Professor Snape has filled me in briefly on what Jonathan would be facing. If Voldemort is truly making a comeback, I believe with all my heart that if we requested volunteers to fight him tomorrow, Jonathan Lionheart would be standing first in line, broom and wands in hand._

 _He is a prodigious wizard in defense, a capable healer, and possibly the most talented broom pilot we have ever seen in America. You could find no better wizard for your cause, and not accepting him based on your fears of what he has gone through would deprive you of a powerful ally; one that could give the Boy Who Lived the edge he might need to defeat Voldemort._

 _I hereby, sir, give my complete endorsement of Jonathan Lionheart for your cause, and hope you will accept him to your academy. I have included with this letter the official transfer paperwork. Once you sign it, I will be informed and will have Jonathan on his way. Admiral Horatio Ice has agreed to transport Jonathan aboard the U.S.S. Constellation on her trip to London in two days time._

 _I look forward to formally meeting you,_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Headmaster Tobias N. Webster_

 _Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Fawkes crowed with a tone of approval before returning to his perch. Dumbledore put the letter down, stood up and walked towards the window of his office. If he brought this young wizard here, he would only be facing more of what he has endured for last four years of his life. Every single ounce of pain that Harry has endured over 15 years, Jonathan has endured and then some in only four years. Another tear slipped down Dumbledore's cheek. How could anyone so young become such a wizard? And a Ranger, no less! Rangers were the American equivalent of Aurors in England, but the Rangers were even more terrifying in action. In England Aurors were expected to bring their prisoners in alive for judgment and sentencing. Rangers were sent out to eliminate threats to the wizarding world; no trial, no prison sentence. If MACUSA deemed you dangerous enough to warrant a Ranger, your trial had already happened, and your sentence was soon to be served.

Severus stood behind Dumbledore. "If we wish him to arrive in time for the start-of-turn feast, we must reply immediately. The _Constellation_ is the flagship of the Continental Wizarding Navy; she's making the rounds with all of America's wizarding allies, restoring relations with friendly nations. If he misses that ship, he will not be here in time to take the _Express,_ and miss his best first chance to meet Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, then turned to Severus. "I will meet him personally in London, at Diagon Alley. I will inform him of exactly what he will be coming to face, and what we need of him. He will have a choice." Dumbledore walked back to his desk and picked up the first page of Jonathan's dossier. There was a mark of determination in the young wizard, and some element that Dumbledore couldn't quite put his finger on. He knew, however, that if Headmaster Webster's knowledge of Jonathan was accurate, then Harry and Jonathan would quickly become friends naturally. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley would probably follow suite, and the four of them would make a powerful force against Voldemort.

While Dumbledore still felt asking this young wizard to enter a war that currently didn't involve him was wrong, the advantages of Harry Potter having such a powerful ally; one his age, that could understand everything Harry was going through, and would stand back to back with him no matter what, quickly outweighed Dumbledore's concerns. "I do, however, believe you are right, Severus. This young wizard could give young Harry the extra help he seems to need." He grabbed a quill and signed the acceptance of student transfer letter. The letter glowed blue for a moment, then returned to normal. Then, a stamp appeared on the bottom of the letter; it was the stamp of Headmaster Webster, approving the transfer.

Harry would get his help in the form of a fifteen-year-old soldier. Dumbledore simply hoped it wasn't a mistake.

 _o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o_

 _Well, I know it's short, but chapters will get longer after this one. I'm fairly new to the Potterverse, so while there will be some intentional changes from cannon, I might make some mistakes when it comes it cannon material. Just let me know if I do, and I'll make corrections. I'm not really bothered to go back and fix it._

 _Also, if I get the tone of certain characters off, let me know. I want this to feel like cannon, while being a twist to cannon, make sense? I don't want the characters to feel completely foreign._

 _I know that not including what the letter said about Jonathan is mildly lazy writing, but I wanted there to be some... Curiosity. Exactly what has Jonathan suffered? What did he do to earn such a recommendation and respect? How does an underage wizard earn what I've made essential the rank of Auror? See? Suspense._

 _History lesson: The U.S.S. Constellation in this story is one of the six original frigates ordered by the United States Congress with the Naval Act of 1794. Her sister ship, the Constitution, is the worlds oldest commissioned naval vessel still afloat, and currently the only ship in the U.S. Navy to have sunk another vessel; but Constellation herself, in history, was broken up in 1854. Here, in this world, she was conscripted into service with the U.S. Wizarding Navy to serve as the flagship of the fleet. If you want to know what I imagine she looks like, Google U.S.S. Constitution. There you go._

 _In this world, stuff that comes from the United States will be a bit more weaponized and, frankly, far fetched, from cannon. This makes sense as the United States Wizarding world would have been in a time of extreme war. And frankly, it's just kinda what we do._

 _Questions, comments, concerns, complaints and snide remarks are welcome. I am a large, semi-muscular man. I can take it. (10 points for the Firefly reference. Booyah.)_


	2. Jonathan Sheppard Lionheart

_Well, here is chapter two. Let's start making some progress, shall we?_

 _"We are all broken and damaged, and we aren't quite fixed yet._

 _A lot of us have gone through hell, but you know what? We came back._

 _We came back stronger._

 _You know why? Because we are warriors._

 _And warriors fight."_

 _-Unknown_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Across the Atlantic Ocean, deep in the Mount Greylock State Reservation of Massachusetts, Jonathan Sheppard Lionheart was running his was back to Ilvermorny School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had gotten up while it was still dark and raced to the bottom of the mountain to watch the sun rise over the fields just outside the small town of Cheshire.

It had been an unusually cold night for summer, and there was heavy dew on everything as the sun came up, causing fields of grass and wheat to glitter like glass in the morning. It was one of Jonathan's favorite things; a misty morning that seemed to glow. It was quiet and peaceful; something he once thought he would never get tired of.

As he followed the trail back up the mountain to Ilvermorny, though, he was struck with a sense of discontent. The peace he and so many others had fought for, the peace he was currently bathing in, also felt like a prison. He couldn't explain it, but he felt almost as if his life was… Over? Slipping away? It was as if his life had come to mean something, and now that meaning had been taken away.

The trail path began to get misty as he neared the entrance to the massive garden grounds of Ilvermorny. The mist was used as a way to hide the school from No-Maj eyes, and normally wizards and witches ignored it. Jon chose not to; the grey mist seemed to match his sudden mood shift. ' _I should be jumping for joy, ecstatic for peace. The opportunities to do… Anything, are endless now.'_ And it was that exact thought that made Jon feel empty and lost.

He broke through the trailhead and came to a stop inside the massive grounds of Ilvermorny. In front of him was a massive garden complex; large rectangles of grass, surrounded by paths and garden beds, stretched for almost a quarter mile. A large marble fountain, surrounded by Greek pillars and walls sat in the middle, amazingly intact. Just to his right was a massive wooden coliseum that was the Ilvermorny Quidditch patch. Or rather, what was left of it.

Over half the patch was destroyed, and only one quarter of the outer wall still stood. Crashed in the center of the patch was a mangled and twisted twenty gun two-deck Snow Brig, the name " _Purging_ " painted under her captain's quarters. Still hanging off her stern, waving lazily in the gentle breeze, was the flag of the Restorative Wizarding Army; a red flag with a white circle in the middle, and fifteen navy blue stars to represent the fifteen Pureblood families that started the war. Jonathan, still catching his breath, spat towards the ship.

 _Purging_ had been sent, along with some seven hundred wizards, in one last effort to capture Ilvermorny. It had turned out to be the last major battle of the war, and a decisive victory for the Continental Wizarding Army and Navy. The cost had been steep, though; six hundred and twelve of the R.W.A wizards were killed, the _Purging_ destroyed, while almost four hundred C.W.A and Ilvermorny wizards and witches had died, and the _U.S.S. Sagittarius_ had been brought to ground to keep her from being lost in the battle.

More toward the center of the gardens, the _Sagittarius_ sat favoring her right side, her main mast broken and lying across the gardens. The _Sagittarius_ was a twenty-four gun sixth-rate frigate that had been in the U.S. Wizarding Navy for some one hundred and fifty years. She had been most famous for keeping British and French wizarding troops from aiding either the Union of Confederacy in the American Civil War. After Ilivermorny's previous headmaster, Bartholomew Tharp had sent his patronus to call for help to save the school, _Sagittarius_ was the first help to arrive, dispatching broom fighters and engaging the _Purging_ in close combat. To the local towns of Massachusetts, a record lighting storm had occurred. To the wizards and witches that lived the battle, it was simply hell.

Jon walked up to the _Sagittarius_ and ran his hands along her coppered bottom. Dents, scrapes, holes and even dried blood marred what was normally a polished and beautiful ship. He'd fought several battles under the shadow of the _Sagittarius;_ it depressed him to see her in such bad shape. A poem he read once popped into his head. He started trying to piece it together in his head. "Through the travail of ages, midst the pomp and toils of war, have I fought and strove and perished. Many times upon this star."

He _harrumphed,_ trying to recall more of the poem. "So as through a glass and darkly, the age long strife I see; where I fought in many guises, many names. But always me."

The sound of boots crunching through gravel caught his attention, and a deep voice started calling out the last prose of the poem. "So forever in the future shall I battle as of yore, dying to be bore a fighter but to die again once more!" Captain Roland Greywave came up to Jonathan and embraced him in a hug, three hard slaps on Jonathan's back. "General George S. Patton Jr. Strange that such a young wizard would be so familiar with No-Maj history and literature."

Jonathan returned the embrace. "I can't help it, the No-Maj world is fascinating. What are you doing here? When did you make Captain?"

Greywave pointed to the _Sagittarius._ "Navy Command gave me the _Sagittarius._ I'm here to oversee her repairs and get her back to North Brother Island in New York for refitting. We can't just leave her sitting in your school gardens, can we?"

Jonathan looked at Greywave's golden epaulets appreciatively. "Well, Captain looks good on you. They couldn't have given her to a better man." Now Captain Greywave, formerly a Lieutenant, had worked closely with Jonathan and the squad he'd been given command of the last year of the war; the Seventh Ranger Detachment. They had worked together in seven different engagements, and had formed a sort of friendship; one based heavily on mutual respect for each other's accomplishments. After the Battle of Ilvermorny, they were close to the only ones left of their respective units. Greywave was only twenty-two.

Greywave clasped Jonathan by the shoulder. "Thank you. I hope to do her justice. How have you been? It's been months since we saw each other. Adjusting to academia well?"

Jonathan frowned. "Well… Not really, I don't think."

Greywave looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

Jonathan sighed. "Have you ever felt, since the war ended, like you don't know what you're doing? Like this crushing weight that you wanted so badly to be taken off you has finally been removed, but now you feel like you're floating in a void. Like you don't have any purpose."

Greywave started walking Jonathan towards the school itself. "Not personally, no. But I'm also a commissioned officer. My duty isn't done. You've been put back into school. Where a fifteen-year old belongs. You're not of age yet, Jonathan. You're still a kid."

"But I don't feel like a kid! I feel… Out of place. Older. Like a man trapped in a boys body. I've…" Jonathan swallowed, suddenly quiet. "I've lost everyone I've ever loved. I'm alone. And I'm told to just, go back to being a student. As if nothing's happened. School starts in a week and I'm losing my mind. I've met a lot of the kids I'll be in classes with, and not that many of them fought in the war. They've all lost someone, yes, but…"

"They haven't seen what you've seen." Greywave finished. Greywave wrapped an arm around Jonathan like an older brother might. "I don't know everything you've gone through, but I can tell you one thing. What I do know of you, you've earned your last name. You've fought harder, stronger and more passionately than wizards twice your age. I've seen you go into fights that you shouldn't have come back from, and yet here you are. You didn't deserve any of what happened to you, but you fought through it. You're a hero to hundreds of people. You're a hero to this nation."

Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. "It just feels so strange. It's like… I'm afraid…"

Greywave gave a nudge. "That's a first."

Jonathan snorted and smirked, but it faded pretty fast. "I'm afraid that the absence of war is going to kill me. I can't figure out what I want to do with my life. I feel… Just, lost."

Greywave twisted Jonathan so he was standing in front of him. "Look at me, Lionheart." Jonathan obeyed. "You're not the only man to ever feel like this after a war. You're not the only one to feel like it now. But if it helps, you're still in a war. Only now, it's a war for your life. You cannot let everything that has happened to you overcome the warrior I know you are. Maybe you need to find the right friends; maybe you need to study the right subjects. Maybe you need to get away from here, somewhere this… Unforgiveable war didn't happen. Transfer to another school; start fresh and new. I know it's hard, but you have to, Jonathan. You've earned it. Don't let those bastards win!" Greywave pointed to the R.W.A flag hanging on the stern of the _Purging._ "If you let this defeat you, they'll get one more win. And I know you won't let that happen."

A strike of stubbornness lit inside Jonathan. ' _He's right. I need to figure out how to move on. My family would hate how I've been thinking. They'd want me to rise up.'_ Jonathan nodded. "You're right, Roland. Thank you." Jonathan hugged Roland.

Roland smiled, returning the embrace. "Anytime, Lionheart." He pulled back. "I'm proud to call you a friend."

Jonathan nodded, a small smile on his face. "So am I." A high-pitched call pulled Jon's eyes to the sky. A bald eagle was circling above him, looking at Jon as if waiting for him to say it was okay to come down. Jonathan smiled. "Come on down, Lance!"

Lance began swooping down towards the two young men, landing gracefully in front of them. Lance was a large bald eagle, with a bright yellow beak, a beautiful white head and a dark body. Piercing green eyes gave him the appearance of a highly intelligent animal. A small scroll was attached to his left leg. Jonathan bent down to retrieve it. "Did you bring me a letter, boy?" He scratched the top of Lance's head. The eagle chirped appreciatively, nodding his head. "Thank you, Lance. I'm afraid you've caught me without any treats. Would you like to go do some hunting?" Lance bobbed his head a couple times. "Okay. Let me see what the note says."

Jonathan unrolled the small note to find a short note with perfect script:

 _Please come to my office quickly. I need to speak with you._

 _Headmaster Webster_

Jon looked back at Lance. "Go do some hunting for about half an hour, then come back. I'll have some food waiting for you, okay?" Lance nipped his finger gently, then turned around and took off towards the direction of New Ashford, probably to see if he could find any good hunting in the fields there. Jon looked back at Greywave. "I need to go. Headmaster Webster wants to see me."

Greywave nodded. "Alright. Stay strong, Jonathan. School starts soon; you never know what might happen then. You can always come to me if you need anything."

Jonathan nodded, and then started jogging back towards the school. As he got closer, he noticed that much of the battle damage had been repaired. Ilvermorny was a large castle mansion. Its stones were white, and it had elements of Tudor-design throughout. A wall went all the way around, with wrought-iron gates on all four sides. Some of the structure was comprised of square buildings with tall spire roofs. There was one large circular building close to the center with a small-spired roof. It had collapsed in the battle. There were some short towers that had also been badly damaged, but everything was nearly repaired. Wizards and witches looked over the building, making sure they were putting everything back to the way it had been.

Entering the main hall, Jon considered taking a shower. His track suit; blue with cranberry stripes down the arms and legs, with the Wampus house badge on the left front breast, and his blue Addidas runners, were a little muddy from his run. But the note had seemed urgent, so Jon made straight for the Headmasters office. As he approached, he noticed that the stone Minuteman that normally stood guard was still missing; in his place were two Rangers. Standing guard in their dark brown robes, hoods over their heads to conceal their features, they seemed to be watching anyone who passed as if they were a threat to the headmaster. ' _Tensions are still high four months after the war ended. How long is it going to be like this?'_

The Ranger to the right of the door noticed Jonathan approaching and stepped forward, and both Rangers stepped into a salute. "Headmaster Webster has been expecting you Ranger Lionheart."

Jon was a little surprised they actually referred to him as "Ranger Lionheart." His title as Ranger now was a formality. He did have an offer to re-join the Rangers upon completion of his education, but when the war came to an end he was removed from the active service roster and listed as an honorary Ranger. He returned the salute. "It's just Mr. Lionheart. My rank is sort of a paper title."

The Ranger to the left of the door lowered her hood and looked down at Jonathan. "You fought in the war as a Ranger. You'll always be one of us. Never forget that." She pushed the door to the Headmaster's office open. "We certainly won't."

Jonathan felt his cheeks flush a bit, looking down before looking back to meet her gaze. "Thank you."

She smiled. "No problem, sir. Better head on in; it sounded like whatever he needs to see you about is important."

Jonathan nodded and stepped inside. The Ranger pulled the door closed behind him, and he found himself standing in a long rectangular room. Windows to his right, facing east, offered the only source of light into the office, which was very dark from its oak floor and oak paneled walls. Paintings of previous Headmasters and prestigious students lined both walls, all of them turning to look at the new entrance. The occasional candle lamp stuck out along both walls. Towards the windows was the Headmaster's desk. It was a large and intimidating desk, also made of dark oak, and it carved to look like a castle itself. Around the desk were currently three men; Headmaster Webster, General Greylock of the C.W.A., and a tall, portly man Jon didn't recognize.

Headmaster Tobias Webster didn't look like a typical Headmaster. He was clean-shaven, with black hair that was slicked back over his head in a nineteen-forties style military haircut. He had a tanned complexion and steel grey eyes. He was also a bit young for the position at only thirty-seven years old. He had served as the school's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but was given the position of Headmaster after the battle to take the school cost Ilvermorny its previous Headmaster, Bartholomew Tharp. He had been killed trying to defend first year students. Tobias Webster had earned the rank of Colonel in the war, and carried himself like a military man. His presence was one that demanded respect from anyone in the room with him. He also never wore dress robes unless he had to. He was always seen in No-Maj clothes; usually khaki pants of tan, blue or olive, with shirts, ties and shoes to match.

General Greylock, whose first name was a mystery to all but those closest to him, looked like a white-haired George Armstrong Custer. Long white hair sat underneath a black Cavalry hat with four gold stars pinned to the front. An exaggerated white handlebar mustache occupied his upper lip, and a long pink scar went up the entire left side of his face. He was tall and lanky, and carried an unassuming stance. His uniform was Navy blue with gold buttons, striping and epaulets.

The third man was dressed like a politician. A black three-piece suit covered his large frame. No-frame spectacles balanced on his nose, and walrus-esque mustache sat on his upper lip. Sandy brown hair, seemingly chopped short, was parted down the middle. He had a booming voice that carried across the room. He was speaking when Jonathan walked in. "I cannot believe how minimal they're playing this! If Albus Dumbledore is right, then England is… Oh! Mr. Lionheart! Please, please, come in!"

Jonathan crossed the twenty feet of office to stand in front of Headmaster Webster's desk. He stood at attention and offered a salute. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

Webster returned the salute. "At ease, Jonathan. You're a student now, you don't have to be so formal." He must have caught the flicker of displeasure that crossed Jon's face because he cast General Greylock a knowing look before sitting in his chair.

General Greylock stepped forward and extended his hand to Jonathan. "It's good to see you again, son. How are you settling in here?"

Jonathan squirmed a bit before answering. "I'm, not really sure, sir. I'm happy that the war is over, but I feel a bit out of place."

Greylock nodded, his eyes turning soft with understanding. "I understand. It can take some time to get used to peace."

Webster coughed before speaking again. "Jonathan, I'd like to introduce you to the Massachusetts representative to MACUSA, Senator Josiah Parker."

Senator Parker stepped forward and shook Jon's hand. "A very good pleasure to meet you, young man. I've heard so very much about you. All of MACUSA sends their regards and their thanks for your actions in the war."

Jon felt his face warm up. "Um, thank you, sir. I just… I did what I needed to do."

Senator Parker chuckled. "He is modest, Greylock. You should teach this boy to boast a bit about himself!"

General Greylock seemed to fix his steely look upon the Senator. "His quiet demeanor is what has made him the outstanding young man that he is. I cannot stand soldiers that prattle on for hours about their actions in the war, when over half of them are exaggerated lies."

Jonathan smirked a little at this. "And you should always remember the slave that stood behind the Roman conqueror, whispering the warning that all glory is fleeting."

All three men stared at Jonathan. Headmaster Webster and General Greylock looked at him with approval, but Senator Parker was dumbfounded. Headmaster Webster laughed, breaking the Senator from his shock. "Senator, Jonathan is a student of No-Maj military history. He's particularly fascinated with General Patton. This is another reason he became the soldier he became; he understands the art of war. Jonathan, please take a seat, we have a couple of things we need to discuss."

Jonathan sat before Webster started again. "First things first, MACUSA has decided to formally award you honors based upon your actions in the war. Senator?"

"Ah, yes. MACUSA, in conjunction with the President and the Joint Chiefs have looked over your record and determined you have earned the following merits; the Army and Navy Commendation medal, for unwavering service to both the Army and Navy. The Bronze Star, for rescuing MACUSA Senator Hornbower from the Restorative Wizarding Army prisoner camp in Coalwood, West Virginia, without backup and while under fire. The Soldier's Medal, for the exemplary display of heroism rescuing students from the Athens Institute of Wizardry after it had been set on fire by R.W.A. scouts. The Distinguished Flying Cross for the action of defending _U.S.S. Constellation_ from R.W.A. broom pilots as they attempted to burn off her sails, with a confirmed total of five kills in that action, the most of any of our flyers that day. Three Silver Stars; one for your involvement of the brilliant Seventh Rangers assault on R.W.A.'s Erie, Pennsylvania shipyards, another for the defense of MACUSA itself in the Battle of New York, and a third for the actions here at Ilvermorny School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Three Purple… Hearts…."

Jonathan looked up at Senator Parker, whose voice had cracked and his hands were shaking. The look on his face was going from disbelief to heartache to anger, while one tear slid down his face. Jonathan looked at Headmaster Webster, who was looking at Jonathan like a father might look at a son he was extremely proud of. Jonathan himself was feeling overheated. The sheer magnitude of everything he'd gone through was something he often failed to grasp. What bothered him most, though, was that everyone made him sound like a hero, when others had paid higher prices around him.

General Greylock coughed. "Suffice it to say, Ranger Lionheart, that your actions in the war have not gone unnoticed. You are one of our greatest heroes, and the entire Wizarding community in American owes you a debt I fear it cannot repay."

Senator Parker regained his composure, but his voice was still shaky. "Quite so, young man."

General Greylock stepped forward. "You will also receive the Distinguished Service Cross, and the Medal of Honor."

Jonathan had started shaking too, but not nearly as severely as Senator Parker. Jon reached forward for a tissue from Webster's desk and wiped the bottom of his nose. "What about… Uhm, what about everyone else? The one's that didn't make it?"

Senator Parker looked surprised; General Greylock looked proud. "They will be receiving their own medals and awards. Their families will be called into New York for an award and memorial ceremony."

Senator Parker perked up. "That's right, young man! And you will have a ceremony…"

"Stop." Headmaster Webster interrupted. "Jonathan, let me explain something. As deserving as you are of every award you have earned, there is a source of… Contention, between Senator Parker, the General and myself. MACUSA wants to parade you across the country, showing you off to every witch and wizard in America as a beacon of hope."

"Now Tobias, that's not exactly…"

"What would you call it? Live broadcasts of his medal ceremony, a private cabin on the _Constellation_ , but only because the _Constellation_ is famous as the flagship of the fleet, and she'll make such an expedition easier. Stops at every major battlefield, visits to every town affected by the war. Town hall meetings, shaking hands with anyone who sees him, visits to gravesites and crying families." Webster looked at Jonathan who had gone sallow at the thought. "I don't think sending a fifteen-year-old boy, no matter how brave he has been, on such a pompous vote rally is the right thing to do. And I also don't think Jonathan wants that kind of attention."

Jonathan swallowed. "I'd rather not, sir. It's no offense to MACUSA, or any of the families that lost someone, or even the awards themselves. But Senator, I'm nothing special. I'm…" Jonathan suddenly started to feel something he hadn't felt in a long time: overwhelmed. His sinuses started to fill up and his eyes were brimming with tears. "I'm just a teenager, sir. A normal kid, who found himself in an extraordinary situation. I did what I volunteered to do, which was serve my country. I helped defeat the enemy of freedom and peace here at home, and saw that justice was done. Justice for every wizard that lost a family member, and justice…" Jonathan's voice hitched. "Justice for my own family. I don't deserve the parades, meetings or the press you have planned. Those that paid the highest price deserve that attention. Have your parades, but not for me. You can mention me, but I won't be there. I… I can't."

Webster stood up, went around his desk and knelt next to Jonathan, wrapping an arm around him. "Senator, Jonathan has done far more than could ever have been expected of him here. I know that if we asked him to fight again, he would. But he isn't a show horse. As his Headmaster, I will not allow it."

General Greylock moved to stand behind Jonathan. "And I will not allow it, either. I'm sorry, Senator. But this is too much to ask of this young man. He may be a warrior, but he's too young and vulnerable for such an affair."

Jonathan sniffled a bit. "Well, I'm not sure I'd use the word vulnerable…"

Webster and Greylock chuckled, but Senator Parker looked angry for a moment, as though his hopes of being re-elected were now in danger. That look quickly faded into a face of regret. He sighed. "You're right, gentleman. He's not a pawn for our governments gain. We must be better than those we worked to defeat." He knelt to Jonathan's right. "I'm sorry, dear boy. Truly, I am."

Jonathan nodded. "It's alright, senator. It's just… Glory, fame, medals. None of that was ever on my mind. I appreciate the recognition, but I don't want a big deal made out of it. Not when so many others deserve it more than I do."

Parker nodded. "MACUSA will probably keep pushing the issue. But I will do what I can to keep them from harassing you."

Webster stood back up and walked back behind his desk. "I may have a solution to that. And maybe to a few of Jonathans other problems." He picked up several papers from his desk. "I've been in communication with the Headmaster and a Professor from our sister school in Scotland, Hogwarts. They may have a… Difficult situation on their hands."

Parker scoffed. "That's an understatement."

Webster looked at him. "Nothing's been confirmed yet. Jonathan, can you tell me what you know about the First Wizarding War?"

Jonathan thought for a second. "Not much, actually."

Webster laughed. "That's because you spend all your time in No-Maj history. The First Wizarding War was a mostly European affair. It involved a powerful wizard named Tom Riddle, though the Wizarding World largely refers to him as either Lord Voldemort, or simply Voldemort. In 1970, he officially dubbed himself the 'Dark Lord,' and began a campaign to exterminate all No-Maj's and enslave No-Maj born wizards, and to elevate Pureblood families in positions of power." He handed Jonathan a piece of paper with what little information was known about Tom Riddle with a simple face picture from when Riddle was much younger. "Sound familiar?"

Jonathan looked over the information. There wasn't much. But the list of Riddle's actions made Jonathan do an emotional one-eighty. He looked at Headmaster Webster with a look of determination, bordering on anger. "Like the R.W.A.? Do you think he may have had anything to do with the… Nightmare we just went through?"

Webster shook his head. "We really don't know. We know that Voldemort travelled the world for some time before he officially started his war. He may have come through the States, planted the seeds of rebellion with the Pureblood families. We did start to have more tension between Purebloods and No-Maj born wizards and witches after nineteen sixty-eight, but nothing has ever been confirmed. He sort of feel off the map."

Parker shook his head. "It was a dangerous time. I had friends in Britain. The whole world was on edge. It was the biggest threat the Wizarding World had ever seen."

Webster nodded. "His rebellion lasted until October thirty-first, nineteen eighty-one. He attacked a family, the Potters, to kill their child. Reasons why are a little vague outside the British Ministry of Magic. Regardless, his attempt to kill the child failed. The boy survived the _Avada Kedavra."_

Jonathan nodded. "The Boy Who Lived. I've heard a little about him."

"Yes, his name is Harry James Potter. He's a few months younger than you are. He's well known throughout the wizarding world." Webster handed Jonathan another piece of paper. Jonathan found himself staring at a boy his age. Raven hair that seemed to go everywhere, bright green eyes sat behind round glasses. The most prominent feature on his face was a lightning bolt scar that went up the left side of his forehead.

Jonathan put the paper back on the desk. "What does this have to do with the current… Potential problem at Hogwarts?"

Webster handed Jonathan a copy of the _Daily Prophet,_ a British wizarding newspaper that was covering the Triwizard Tournament. The headline of the paper read:

 _Potter Wins Triwizard – Cedric Diggory dies from tragic accident._

General Greylock spoke."According to Headmaster Dumbledore and a Professor Snape, young Mr. Diggory did not die in an accident. He was murdered. By Voldemort."

"More precisely, his servant. A man named Peter Pettigrew. Voldemort, however, was there. He tortured Harry shortly after Diggory was murdered." Webster clarified.

Jonathan looked at the two men. "If that's what happened, why isn't the press reporting that? The people have a right to know!"

Webster sighed, but Parker explained. "The Ministry of Magic has officially denied the possibility that Voldemort has returned. They say he was killed in eighty-one, and anyone who says otherwise is trying to stir up trouble and draw attention from an escaped Azkaban prisoner, a Mr. Sirius Black. Who, apparently, is Harry Potter's godfather. Seemingly the only family the boy has left."

Jonathan's eyes widened. "A cover up?"

Webster nodded. "It seems so. Back in the seventies, Voldemort had agents inside the British Ministry of Magic. Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape are of the belief that he may have that leverage again."

Jonathan looked Headmaster Webster right in the eyes. "So what does this have to do with me? Why is this a possible solution for me?"

Webster stood up and walked back towards his large window, overlooking the grounds and watching the Navy crew assemble a dry-dock to stand the _Sagittarius_ up rightso she could be repaired properly. "Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape believe Mr. Potter. They believe Voldemort is preparing for a second attempt at his original plans. If they're right, then the entire world is in danger. The Continental Wizarding Army and Navy are, frankly, in shambles. There's nothing we could do if the Ministry of Magic asked for our help tomorrow, or even in a couple of years. Beyond that, tensions are still high here at home. Trials are taking place, but there may be pockets of R.W.A. resistance all across this country."

"That means," Webster continued, "That the fate of the free world may very well rest with a small band of resistance fighters. Dumbledore and Snape asked me if I knew of any students, roughly Harry Potter's age that had experience fighting in war. You… Were the first person to come to my mind." Webster sat back down, leaned across his desk and looked Jonathan right in the eyes. "With so little evidence, it's possible that what they believe is wrong. But if they're right, they're going to need all the help they can get. And I can't think of a better wizard to send them, either way. With that being said, it is my…" Webster looked at General Greylock. "It is my duty, to ask you to stay."

Jonathan was puzzled. "Sir?"

"If there are pockets of R.W.A. resistance out there, then we're going to need all the able-bodied wizards and witches we can get our hands on. You may not like the praise and attention, but you have the most distinguished record of any wizard that has ever served in the C.W.A. You've become one of our most valuable resources. So it is my duty, to ask you stay."

Jonathan was dumbfounded. He had a chance to go to a place where there wouldn't constantly be reminders of a civil war. He could have a chance at a new life, with new friends and maybe even new dreams. Or, he could be diving headlong into another war. If he stayed here, though, the odds of having to fight some more seemed just about as high. It was a fifty-fifty decision.

Jonathan looked at Tobias Webster. "What would you do, Tobias?"

Webster understood the look in Jonathan's eye. It was the look a son would give his father when he couldn't make a tough decision. Tobias Webster had been Jonathan's DADA teacher when Jonathan first arrived at Ilvermorny. Webster had led a small group of broom fighters to look for missing Ilvermorny students after the first few battles of the war, and had rescued Jonathan from a prisoner convoy after his parents had been murdered. Webster had rushed Jonathan's education in the aspects of DADA, Potions and Healing. When Jonathan decided to volunteer for the C.W.A. at age 13, Webster supported him.

The next two years had been terrifying. Tobias felt like he had slipped into a father figure roll for Jon. Anytime Jon and Tobias could get away from the fighting and meet, they'd talk about what happened. Jon would cry about lost friends, cheer for victories won, and get ready to fight again. Jonathan was a part of countless rescue missions, several all-out frontal assaults, had been captured three times, tortured twice. He fought and helped save MACUSA in New York, scouted and worked as a sniper against high ranking R.W.A. leaders; and when the R.W.A. tried to steal the _U.S.S. Constellation,_ it was Jon that led his small eight man detachment, the Seventh Rangers, to get her back. They succeeded with the help of the _Sagittarius_ , but he was the only Ranger to survive, and that was by the skin of his teeth. He was barely healed when the R.W.A. tried one last time to take Ilvermorny, where he rallied students his age and older to fight until the C.W.A. arrived.

Tobias, while married, had no children of his own. He viewed Jonathan as a sort of adopted son, which made the advice he was about to give even more painful. "If it were me… I would go. If they're wrong, you have a chance to make a life without constantly being reminded of the war. If they're right, then you'll get what I think you've been secretly wanting. One more chance to fight for a cause you believe in. And with the Boy Who Lived around, you won't get as much attention as you do here."

Jonathan nodded. "Okay then. I'll go."

Tobias smiled, but it was mildly bitter. "Alright then. You'll head to England tomorrow with the _Constellation._ She'll take you to London where you'll meet Headmaster Dumbledore in Diagon Alley, at a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. He wants to meet with you to make sure you know what you're getting into. You'll have one last chance to decide there. If you want to come back, _Constellation_ will bring you back."

Jonathan nodded. "I guess I should go pack, then."

Webster nodded. "You should. And head to bed as early as you can; our broom engineer has a special gift for you. She's been working very hard on it. I think you'll really like it."

Jon nodded, then stood up. "Thank you, sir." He looked at General Greylock and extended his hand. "A pleasure to see you again sir."

Greylock smiled. "The pleasure was all mine, Ranger. I know you'll make us proud over there. Moldy-Voldy won't know what hit him!"

Jonathan smiled and stretched out his hand to the Senator. "I want to thank you again for the recognition, sir. It does mean a lot. I just want the men and women that didn't make it to be the real heroes."

Parker nodded and smiled. "I'll do everything I can to see that they are remembered. You have my word. Take care Ranger Lionheart."

Jonathan nodded, then turned and headed back out to the main hall. He pulled the door open and stepped out. The two Rangers stood at attention and saluted. Jon returned the salute before heading up to the Wampus dorm. Suddenly, all the fear, confusion and the struggle for meaning were gone. Jonathan was ecstatic. ' _I'm finally going to do something that matters, again. Make a difference. Have an adventure. Or, maybe just have a life away from a war-torn landscape._

Jonathan walked up to the painting that concealed the Wampus dorm. It was a painting of the _Constellation;_ sailing in the clouds just after the C.W.N. pulled her into service. Her captain at the time, Andrew Krakengärd, called out; "What is the password? Speak! Or I will open fire!"

Jonathan smirked. "Rooster."

Captain Krakengärd waved his hat. "Just so, sir!" The painting swung open revealing a doorway. Jonathan started making his way to his dorm, excited to tell Lance the good news.

Lance was sitting on his perch in Jon's room with his eyes closed, but Jon wasn't convinced he was sleeping. He went over to his desk and pulled out some eagle treats before walking over to Lance and stroking him on the back of his head. The eagle opened his eyes and began to chirp contentedly.

"Did you have a good hunt?"

Lance bobbed his head up and down.

"That's good, boy. Would you like some treats?"

Lance chirped happily. Jonathan gave him a couple of treats before telling Lance. "Well, buddy, it looks like things are going to change in a fairly epic way."

Lance cawed once, the tone was questioning.

"We're heading over to Hogwarts in Scotland, Lance. We're going to join a fight. Maybe. We're not really sure what's going to happen." Jonathan started gathering his belongings and stuffing them into a large wood and metal trunk, and a large olive green canvas duffle bag.

Lance chirped once in a worried tone.

Jonathan stopped packing and looked at the eagle. "I know. But here's the deal. If I go over there, and there's no conflict like I've been told could happen, then I have a chance to try and have a normal life without war. If the reports of trouble are accurate, though, I'll find myself back in a war I've been warned could happen. I know it sounds a little scary, but there's a good chance here. I could live without the shadow of this civil war in top of me. That's worth the risk, dontcha think?"

Lance tilted his head to the left before slowly nodding. Jonathan rubbed under his beak and gave him another treat. "Yeah. I thought so too."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

 _Well, there we go. I promised a bigger second chapter and yeah, I think I nailed it._

 _Yes, old wooden sailing ships fly in my wizarding world. How cool is that?_

 _I had considered keeping Jon's backstory a secret for a bit longer, but the more I thought about it the less that made sense._

 _Let me know what you think, and please share any advice, comments, concerns, complaints or snide remarks._


	3. Pack it up, move it out

_Well, here we go with chapter three._

 _This one might be short, as I'm not sure yet where a good breakpoint will come up._

" _Big jobs usually go to the men who prove their ability to outgrow the small ones."_

 _Theodore Roosevelt_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Many teenagers find it difficult to wake up early even on the best of days. Jonathan never had that problem. His biggest problem now was getting to sleep. During the war he had learned to sleep so lightly that the slightest rustle of leaves would wake him up.

On top of that his sleep was usually fitful, but tonight it had been dreamless and quiet. Shorter than he would have liked, but he was used to that, too. He sat up in bed and cast a look at the small mechanical clock that sat in his window. The hands pointed to four thirty. ' _Great. Well, I guess that works. Constellation leaves for London at nine. This gives me plenty of extra time to get ready.'_

Throwing off his bed covers, Jonathan made for the shower. He dove in for five minutes, washing quickly under ice-cold water. Stepping out feeling completely awake he went back into his bedroom, lit a lamp on his desk and got ready to get dressed. He had two outfits laid out. One was his standard fare; leather lace-up boots, boot-cut jeans, a khaki henley, and his leather jacket. The other was what he had originally planned to wear.

Hanging on the back of his room door was his Ranger uniform. While most Rangers wore whatever they were comfortable in underneath their distinctive hooded brown robes, Rangers that had formed one of the twelve Ranger Detachments were given full military uniforms. Black leather boots that went to the middle of Jonathan's calves sat at the base of the door, with blue-gray wool trousers hanging above them, a gold pinstripe down the sides. A double-breasted dark navy cavalry jacket hung over the trousers, twelve brass buttons glinting in the light from the desk lamp. Golden braids were on the shoulders, which lead to ovular epaulets on the end of the shoulders. Golden tassels hung from the epaulets, and a silver seven was sewn into the top of each.

Hanging on a coat rack to the right of the door was his hat. A dark navy cavalry hat, with the right side of the brim pinned up against the crown. On the front were two wands held by hands crossing each other, with the number seven resting above the wands. A gold band went around the hat at the break. Hanging under that was his saber. The saber could also function like a wand; it's handle made of ebony wood with bright brass inlays, with the core being Wampus hair.

When he had been setting the uniform out last night, Headmaster Webster had sent down an owl with a note:

 _Dress in plain clothes. We need to keep your history as secretive as possible. The press will be watching Constellation; your movements need to be quiet._

As Jon got dressed, he started to worry about what he'd gotten himself into. ' _If I have to keep my history a secret, how am I going to behave? What if I can't fit in with students that haven't dealt with war? What if I don't get along with Harry? What if he's an annoying nitwit who rides on the fame of his name? What if I can't help him?'_

He shook his head. Tobias himself had recommended him to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. No one knew Jon better, and Jon trusted Tobias. He could do this, and he would. He looked over at the perch Lance was sitting on. The eagle had his head turned around, tucked into his right shoulder. Occasionally his tail feathers would wiggle, an indication he was dreaming. Jonathan pulled a small bowl of diced meat from a cooler in his desk and walked over to the eagle. "Hey buddy, I need you to wake up." He placed the small bowl on two arms that held it for Lance, then scratched the top of the eagles head. Lance twisted his head around, opened one eye at a time then chirped a good morning to Jon. "There you are. It's a big day today. You'd better eat. Do you know where the _Constellation_ is?"

Lance bobbed his head twice while gnawing on a piece of meat. Jon scratched his head again. "Good. I want you to fly out to her and wait for me." John pulled a note for the captain of the _Constellation_ from his pocket and tied it to Lance's right leg. "Get that note to the captain and he'll take care of you until I get there, okay?" Lance cawed in agreement. "Good. Eat up and head out. I'll still be here for a while." Lance nipped Jon's finger then kept eating.

Jonathan walked back to the door, took his uniform off the hooks, folded each piece neatly and tucked them into his trunk. He laid his saber and hat on top, closing the lid gently. He pulled his wand from his holster and cast a password spell, then two _reducio_ spells to shrink the trunk to an easily carried size. Slinging his oversized canvas backpack over one shoulder and tucking the trunk under one arm, he looked to Lance. "Fly safe. I'll see you soon." Lance chirped back as Jon opened the door to be greeted by Tobias Webster.

Tobias smiled. "I figured you'd already be awake. Come with me. Celeste has something she think's you're going to love. Did you sleep alright?"

Walking down the hall towards the broom hangar, Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, I slept alright. Not long, but at least it was quiet."

Webster nodded. "I understand. How do you feel about doing this?"

Jonathan chewed his lower lip. "I want to do this. I'm just worried I'll blow it."

Webster raised an eyebrow. "How do you think you'll do that?"

"I'm going to have to be a little on the sneaky side about this. And I'm not sure I can do that very well. I can sneak into a place and play a part for a little while. Go in, get something or someone, and get out. And I'm usually having someone try to hex me on the way out." Webster chuckled. Jonathan continued. "I'm just worried that I'll… Cause trouble."

Webster wrapped his arm around Jon's shoulders. "Well, you excel at causing trouble." Jonathan chuckled, and Webster continued. " Just keep details about your involvement with the C.W.A. out of what you tell people, and you're just a teen who went through a lot. If you slip up and do something major, like use your Patronus or a spell no fifth-year should no, just say you learned it on the run from the Rangers." Webster turned Jonathan so they stood face to face. "And be yourself. Be funny, courageous, kind. Be a warrior poet. And if you can't do that, be like that archeologist from those No-Maj movies you like."

Jonathan smirked. "Indiana Jones?"

"There you go. Be Indiana Jones."

Jon laughed. "I think I can do that."

Webster pulled Jon in for a quick hug. "I know you can. Now," they opened the door to the stairwell that led to the broom hangar. "Celeste has been working on this for a while. She's very proud of it, and when I told her what you were doing, she rushed to get it ready. I don't think she's slept in two days."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the door to the broom hangar. It was a large stone room, with one very large rectangular door at the far side. The hangar was lit by several hundred candles that lined the walls, and eight chandeliers that floated up by the ceiling.

There were probably some three hundred brooms in the hangar. About half belonged to the school and students for learning to fly, Quidditch and personal time. The school brooms were fairly simple affairs. Beginner brooms were "Cubs," small brooms with bright yellow bristles and bands painted on them so they could be easily seen. Quidditch and personal brooms ranged from either _Thunderbirds,_ which were fast but easily broken _,_ to _SuperBolts,_ which were not much slower, but heavier, more durable and easier to fly. These were painted in the various house colors of Ilvermorny.

The really impressive brooms were the ones used by the military. They were painted in either silver or olive green, with a few having the very tips painted assorted colors to signify squadron leaders. And all had extra prongs on the front, just past textured handholds.

There was a squadron of twenty green painted _Atalanta_ brooms _._ These brooms were the strangest looking; the rider sat on one think heavy spine like normal, but behind him the broom split into two sets of bristles. In front there were three prongs; one on top of the main spine, and the other two on the lower left and right sides. It was faster than anything the school used, going nearly one hundred and ten miles an hour, but it was hard to knock out of the sky. Jonathan had seen many _Atalanta_ pilots come home on only one bristle, with cracked spines or with the front all smashed. The three prongs up front acted like wand tips; a pilot could cast spells, jinxes, and curses while flying, and with three individual prongs, with three individual wands, an _Atalanta_ was not a broom you wanted to tangle with.

Another squadron of twenty brooms sat next to the _Atalanta_ squadron. These were _Polaris_ models. _Polaris_ brooms were very straight affairs; everything was designed to be as perfectly straight as possible. Only one prong hung under the main spine, and the bristles were short and bunched in a perfect cone. The broom was a little disappointing because it was neither fast, nor stable, nor tough. _Polaris_ squads suffered the heaviest losses in the war, but the fact that they were the easiest to make made them the unfortunate backbone of both the C.W.A. and R.W.A. broom corps.

The last squad of twenty brooms was the most impressive. These were _Voodoo_ models. _Voodoo_ brooms had curved spines that allowed the pilot a much more aerodynamic and comfortable position. They were sanded and painted like glass so they cut through the air cleanly. The bristles were a straight and long affair, affording the _Voodoo_ extremely fast speeds in excess of one hundred and seventy, while still maintaining a very tight turning circle. Two elegant prongs stuck out from the nose, but they were short and tucked close to the body to allow a more streamlined profile. _Voodoo_ brooms were not quite as tough as _Lightning_ models, but the incredible speed and handling made up for that shortcoming. They were also accurate; the deadliest broom pilots earned their kills on _Voodoo_ brooms, Jonathan included. However, these models were banned from use in other countries because of their weaponized nature. Which meant that Jonathan would be going to England without his broom.

Webster looked around the hangar, not seeing anyone. "Celeste? You in here?"

A loud crashing came from their left as a dark-skinned girl with orange hair fell off the top of a worktable. Celeste was Native American, from a Comanche tribe in Colorado, and aside from her striking orange hair she also had vivid hazel eyes. Paired with a large smile, a constantly upbeat attitude and a knack for always stating the truth, no matter how uncomfortable, everyone at Ilvermorny loved her. Almost as much as she loved flying.

She had made her first broom when she was eleven and though it's maiden flight was all of nine seconds long, she dedicated herself to mastering brooms. It was said she was the best broom maker in the world, but the last four years had meant her brooms never got a chance to compete against anything from the rest of the world.

When Jonathan came back to Ilvermorny after his parents were killed, Celeste had made it her mission to be available for him. She took the role of a big sister and helped him with any studying he needed help with. She listened to him, played games with him, taught him to fly. They had grown close over the last few years. Which is why Jonathan wasn't surprised when, despite being completely exhausted, she was just as eccentric as she always was.

She sprang up off the floor and spun to face the two men. "Oh! Jonathan! Tobias! Hi!" She ran over, slamming into Jonathan with the force of a steam engine. "I've been waiting for you all night! How are you!? Are you excited!? I'm excited! I've heard Hogwarts is beautiful. Not as much as Ilvermorny, of course, but still. Did you sleep well? You look tired. Are you worried? You're going to be fine. A natural warrior you are! My grandfather…"

Jonathan laughed. "Easy, Celeste! Easy. I'm fine, thanks. A little tired, but I'll be alright."

Celeste smiled even brighter, which Jonathan thought was impossible. "Oh, that's good! I'm so happy for you!" She squealed again and hugged Jon again with a force that made Jon grunt. "I've got something for you! You're gonna love it! Come on!"

Celeste bounded away towards her workstation and then off to the right, stopping at what was obviously a broom under a canvas tarp. "So. Take a guess!"

Jonathan chuckled. "It's a broom?"

She nodded excitedly, her smile getting just a bit wider. Jon looked at Tobias who just shook his head with a knowing smile on his face. "Yes, it's a broom! Silly, really, what else would it be? But it's more than a broom. It's _your_ broom!" She yanked the cover off the broom to reveal what looked like a _Voodoo_ , but it didn't have the weapon prongs. "I call it the _Mustang!_ After the old American No-Maj fighter from World War Two? I thought you'd like that. Well, that and I like horses."

It looked a bit like a _Voodoo,_ but instead of being painted silver this broom looked like polished aluminum. The curve in the spine was a little more pronounced, and the footrests were a little farther back, making the broom look even more aerodynamic. The bristles were black, and Jon thought at first they were wood until he walked up to them and touched them. "Aluminum?"

She nodded. "Even better! Titanium! Well, at least in the bristles. The spine is from live oak, but I've skinned it in aluminum. She cuts through the air like nothing. I got the inspiration from the last Triwizard Tournament. That boy, Harry Potter, used his broom in the first challenge, getting an egg from a dragon. Problem is, he almost got scorched. And a lot of pilots in the war got scorched on brooms too. This one, not a problem!" She stepped back admiring her work. "She's one of a kind. For now, I guess. And meets all codes for import under current _standard_ British inspections." She wore the grin of a Cheshire cat on that last statement.

Tobias caught the look. "What do you mean, _standard_ British inspections?"

She giggled. "Currently, the British Ministry of Magic only inspects incoming brooms for the most common of broom spells. Spells for speed, ease of handling, cushioning, and the like. Simple. They do NOT inspect for concealment spells." She leaned over the spine of the broom, and whispered very gently "Defender Libertatis."

A small rectangular hatch opened on the top of the spine, near the nose of the broom. Inside was a compartment that was just large enough to hold… "A wand?" Jonathan asked.

Celeste jumped up and down a couple times. "Yes! See, the British Ministry of Magic isn't allowing any of our weaponized brooms into their country. Not that you can really blame them. But I thought it might be useful for you, just in case something happens. The whole nose of the broom acts like a weapon prong. You can also pull the wand out if you're worried about shooting someone with a petrification hex in the middle of a Quidditch match."

Jon's smile was wide now. "Thank you, Celeste. Really. That… Wow. That took a lot of work."

She waved him off. "For you, it was nothing."

"What do I need to say to get that open again?"

"Defender Libertatis. It's Latin. It means…"

"Defender of Liberty." Jon finished.

Celeste looked shocked. "You know Latin? I didn't know that. But yeah, Defender of Liberty. I thought it suited you."

Jon walked around the broom and wrapped Celeste in a hug. "Thank you so much for this."

She squeezed him back, then ruffled his hair as she backed away. "Don't mention it, kiddo."

Tobias coughed. "I hate to wrap this up, but Jonathan needs to get some breakfast still. Once he's eaten, I need to go over a few more things with him before he goes to Boston."

Suddenly, the smile vanished from Celeste's face. Jon put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Her eyes started to water and she sniffled. "I think it just hit me… This means you're leaving the school. And you… You might be going to fight in another war." She pulled a rag from a back pocket and blew her nose. "I sat here just thinking in my head "Oh, he's just going to get a fresh start," all the while building you a fighting broom because you're actually going to fight the evilest wizard that's been known to have lived." She looked Jon in the eyes. "Now I'm scared."

Jonathan pulled her into another hug. "Hey, hey. Look, I'm going to be fine. I know what could happen, but nothing's really been confirmed. Right, Tobias?"

Tobias came up and put a hand on Celeste's shoulder. "He's right, Celeste. Nothing about Voldemort is confirmed. They could be wrong."

Jon pulled back and brought Celeste's face up to look into her eyes. "See? Besides, this isn't goodbye. This is… Until then. We'll see each other again. I'm coming back one day."

Celeste blew her nose again. "You promise?"

Jon nodded. "I promise. Besides, who else would break all your brand new brooms if I didn't come back?"

She smiled. "I can find plenty of riders for that." She wiped her eyes. "Just please be careful."

Jon hugged her again. "I will. I promise."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Breakfast had been a fairly short affair. No one else was up yet, so he ate a simple breakfast of eggs with bacon and yogurt before heading up to the Headmaster's office. Walking up to the headmaster's door, two Rangers saw him coming, saluted and then opened the door. He returned the salute as he stepped inside. Once the door closed he looked at Tobias. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Tobias laughed. "You will one day. Just not now. Now we need you to act like a normal student. Have a seat." Jonathan sat down across from Tobias. "There are just a few little details that are new, or that I just want to go over again. First, Senator Parker has permanently sealed your service record. It's been classified top secret to the highest level of MACUSA. Not even the President could see your file. That means that there is just a handful of people who know who you are and what you're doing. No one in England, with the exception of Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape, has any clue who you are and what you've done."

Jon nodded. "And I need to keep it that way."

"Correct. Dumbledore believes that the British Ministry is conspiring against himself and Mr. Potter in order to keep Voldemort a secret. If that's true, and they knew what your record was, there's no way you'd be allowed to do this. As it is, you're already making history."

"How's that?"

"You're gonna be the first American to walk the halls of Hogwarts as a student, not just an invited guest. It's a big deal."

Jon clicked his tongue. "Gotcha. So, the Ministry knows I'm coming."

"Yes. They're under the impression that you're coming to England to be with the last of your living relatives. As a result, you're going to be enrolled in Hogwarts to finish your wizarding education. When you get there, don't expect too many questions from their inspectors. They've got a file that explains everything. Questions?"

"This family we're pretending I have. Are they coming to meet me at the _Constellation_?"

Tobias shook his head. "No. No one will come for you at the _Connie._ You'll head to a pub called the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road. There's a Blockbuster Video just up the street; you can get a cab to take you there, then walk to the Cauldron. That's where you'll meet Headmaster Dumbledore. But take a cab to King's Cross station, first. Switch cabs there and then head to the Leaky Cauldron. Anything else?"

Jon thought for a second. "Nope. Behave. Keep my past to myself. Make friends with Harry Potter, and help him beat a wizard named Voldemort. If they're right about this wizard. Seems simple enough."

Tobias smirked. "Run on the impression that they're right. Until you have concrete evidence that makes it obvious they were wrong, operate as if the threat is real and keep a sharp eye. Besides, it might even help you make friends with Mr. Potter."

Jon frowned. "I hope. But I kinda feel like a fraud."

"I know, but if this goes the way both Dumbledore and myself think it will, you and Harry will be friends quickly and for real. Then you won't be a fraud anymore, and you'll be helping a real friend."

"I hope."

Tobias's eyes twinkled. "You'll be fine. Now, let's get you out to Boston." He reached into his desk and pulled out an awkward looking plastic box. He opened it on his desk to reveal a small ship's deck bell. "You ready?"

Jon grabbed his bags from where Tobias had set them against the wall and stood in front of the desk. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Tobias smiled, then extended his hand. "One more thing I want you to know, Jonathan. If you were my son, I'd be very, very proud of you. I AM very proud of you. And if your family was still here, I think they'd be proud of you too."

Jonathan shook his hand. "Thanks, Tobias. That… That means a lot to me."

Tobias nodded. "Touch the bell when you're ready. You'll land in the _Connie's_ dock house. Commander Bushnell is waiting for you. Good luck, Jonathan."

"Thanks." Jon reached out and touched the bell, then felt like he was being sucked into his navel.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

With a sudden crack, Jon found himself standing in the middle of the brick dock house for the _U.S.S. Constellation_. Being built on a dock, it was a small structure of one room with eight white painted oak desks, with Navy officers sorting paperwork and issuing orders.

A few people looked up to see who had just entered the building, but only one of them paid any attention; Commander Alexandria Bushnell. She was a short woman standing at five foot two inches, but her impeccable posture and her sharp, smart face gave her a presence of power and authority. She wore a current No-Maj white Naval dress uniform, and her fiery red hair was tucked into her dress cap. She excused herself from her conversation with two ensigns and walked up to him, saluting briskly. "Ranger Lionheart, it's good to see you again."

Jon saluted quickly. "I'm not techni…"

"Technically a Ranger. Yes, I've heard. But I was there, Jonathan. I saw. You saved my life and the lives of half our crew. Not to mention the _Connie_ herself. You'll always be a Ranger to me, my captain and our crew. And you always will be." She looked over his luggage. "You need a hand with any of that?"

Jon, red-faced, shook his head. "No, I've got it. Thanks though."

"Alright. Let's get you on board. The press won't be here for another hour, and while the _Wizarding Times_ agreed to keep you out of any stories, there are always more vultures lying around. Oh, your eagle got here about an hour ago. He's in your cabin. Odd to see an eagle living as a pet."

Jon followed Commander Bushnell as she walked out of the dock house. "Well, I saved his life when he was a chick. He's stuck with me ever since."

Bushnell nodded. "Well, eagles are as loyal as they are lovers of freedom. I guess that will just add to your legend."

Jon snorted. "Legend." He stopped as he realized he was standing just in front of a gangplank that led up to the _Constellation's_ port side. He took a good long look at the graceful old ship.

The last time he had seen the ship, she was badly damaged. Several cannon ports had been blown open much larger than they were designed. The main mast had been broken more than halfway up, and most of her sails had been burned and scorched. Holes and splintered wood had been everywhere. Now, though, she looked brand new. Fresh black paint glistened in the light of Boston Harbor, with clean white sails furled on their masts. ' _Kinda stinks the No-Maj's can't see her. She's even prettier than the Constitution.'_

Commander Bushnell had noticed him admiring the ship. "Gorgeous isn't she? She took quite a beating, but we patched her all up. She's ready to fly for another hundred years." She pointed to the top of the main mast. "Do you see that flag?"

Jon looked and saw an Army cavalry flag; red on top, white on bottom, with a forked tail. In the red section is had in bold white letters "C.W.A.," and in the white section with bold red letters is said "7th Rangers." Jon felt his eyes water a bit. "Our standard?"

Bushnell nodded. " _Constellation_ will fly under that flag for as long as she flies in the Navy. A tribute to you and your team. There's something else you should see."

Jon followed her up the gangplank and onto the quarterdeck, next to the wheelhouse and the ship's bell. The bell sat a few feet in front of the wheel and was sitting on a thick oak platform. On the platform was an enormous brass plaque, nearly five feet wide and four feet tall. Bushnell turned and looked at Jon. "We had it installed during the repairs. As a tribute."

Jon squatted in front of the plaque to read it.

BE IT KNOWN, ON TWELVE DECEMBER NINETEEN-HUNDRED AND NINETY-FOUR, U.S.S. CONSTELLATION WAS COMMANDEERED BY FORCES OF THE RESTORATIVE WIZARDING ARMY IN AN ATTEMPT TO CHANGE THE MOMENTUM OF THE AMERICAN WIZARDING CIVIL WAR. THOUGH HEAVILY OUTNUMBERED WITH NO REINFORCEMENTS IN RANGE, THE CONTINENTAL WIZARDING ARMY'S SEVENTH RANGER DETACHMENT ENGAGED IN A RESCUE MISSION OF THIS SHIP AND ALL CAPTURED CREW. THE RANGERS INVOLVED IN THIS ACTION ARE TO BE REMEMBERED HENCEFORTH AS THE SAVIORS OF THE CONSTELLATION.

JONATHAN LIONHEART, SEVENTH RANGER COMMANDER, AGE 15, SURVIVED

KAWISENHAWE, C.W.A. RANGER, AGE 16, KILLED IN ACTION

RACHEL LONGWOOD, C.W.A. RANGER, AGE 16, KILLED IN ACTION

AUGUSTUS GREENMOUNTAIN, C.W.A. RANGER, AGE 16, KILLED IN ACTION

CRYSTALINE ICE, C.W.N CAPTAIN, C.W.A. RANGER, AGE 15, KILLED IN ACTION

FIGHTING BEAR, C.W.A. RANGER, AGE 15, KILLED IN ACTION

JUPITER BEAM, C.W.A. RANGER, AGE 15, KILLED IN ACTION

EDWARD WOODHORN, C.W.A. RANGER, AGE 14, KILLED IN ACTION

TO THE SACRIFICE AND BRAVERY OF THESE FEW DO WE COMMIT THE FUTURE OF THIS VESSEL. LET CONSTELLATION HENCEFORTH BE KNOWN AS THE NINTH MAN OF THE SEVENTH RANGER DETACHMENT.

WE, THE CAPTAIN AND CREW OF U.S.S. CONSTELLATION, ON THIS NINTH DAY OF JUNE, NINETEEN-HUNDRED AND NINETY-FIVE, HIGHLY RESOLVE THAT THESE DEAD SHALL NOT HAVE DIED IN VAIN.

The plaque then held the signature of every member of the _Constellation's_ crew. Jon wiped his hands over the names of his teammates, eyes watering again. Sometimes he wanted to feel horrible and guilty about his decision to come after this ship, but he could never shake Crystal's last words; "My dad. He'll be proud. I'm proud. We saved our girl."

Crystaline Ice was the third daughter of Admiral Vincent Ice of the Navy. Her family had been in the Wizarding Navy for over one hundred and twenty years, and the members of her family had served on _Constellation_ as either Captain or Commander. She had always hoped to one day earn a commission to the _Constellation_ and be her captain one day. Admiral Ice had shared the same hopes.

While Jon was in Ilvermorny being treated for his wounds after saving the ship, Admiral Ice had visited him. When Jon told him what his daughters' last words were, the man cried, but he nodded his head. "She's right. I am proud. Damn proud. Of her. And of you." Admiral Ice got up and walked away. Crystal was then posthumously awarded a Navy command of Captain, and given a service history of captain of the _Constellation,_ becoming the fourth member of her family to have served under her standard.

One tear slid down Jon's cheek before he spoke. "It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived."

"General Patton. It's a good quote. He was right, you know." Bushnell spoke softly.

Jon nodded. "They knew the risks. Truth is, I was the one who hesitated. I didn't want to go in so badly outnumbered. But they pushed for it. They wanted to go. So we did." Standing up, Jon looked up at the rigging, felt a gentle sea breeze run through his hair. "I just hope it means something in twenty or thirty years. I hope I… Make them proud."

"I know you will, Jonathan. You're just that kind of person." Bushnell looked out towards the bow and saw the sky turning pink. "I need to get you down below to meet the captain. He wants to meet you and set you up in your quarters. Follow me."

Jon followed her down to the gun deck where there was much more activity. Men and women were moving crates of supplies all along from fore to aft, from spellballs to coffee, some seventy sailors moved through the deck. All of them stopped and offered a salute as Commander Bushnell walked past, and maintained the salute for Jonathan, but added stares and whispers as he walked past. "Ain't that Lionheart?" "Can't be, not tall enough." "I thought he was older, he looks so young." "Best wizard to ever live, that one."

Some of them even spoke to him, the ones that did would say something like "I was here, sir. The night you saved our ship. You and your team saved my life." Or "Remember the Seventh!" Or "We owe you our lives, sir."

There was a young female lieutenant that Jon vaguely recognized. She had honey blonde hair sticking out of her cap, and when saw him, she dropped her box of canned goods and blushed bright red. "It's a real honor to have you, sir. Oh!" She went purple. "Um. I mean to have you back here sir, on the ship. We… I… I'm honored, sir."

Bushnell stifled a laugh. "Why are you down here, Lieutenant? Don't you have an ambassador to help on board?"

The Lieutenant's eyes widened. "Oh! Yes, ma'am!" And she rushed towards the steps up to the top-deck.

Jon followed Bushnell into the captains' day cabin. "Well, that was… Something."

Bushnell smiled. "I'm sorry. I told them you were coming and that they weren't allowed to tell anyone. I should have also told them to treat you like any other officer."

Jon shrugged. "It's okay. I think."

Bushnell walked up to another door and knocked. A deep voice responded. "Come."

Bushnell and Jon walked into the lounge of the ship, a small room set up at the very stern of the ship with windows affording a striking view of the city of Boston. Standing next to the table in the center of the room was the captain of the ship. He was a tall, bald African American man, and he had to stoop everywhere he went. Even stooping, he was a large man. Easily two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, he had an intimidating presence that even made Jonathan feel a little inferior. He was looking at the maps to England, making sure he had plotted the best route. When he looked up and saw Jonathan he smiled widely and warmly. "Ranger Lionheart. It's very good to meet you. I'm Captain Gideon Aubrey. What do you think of the _Constellation_ since her refit?"

"She's a real beauty, sir."

Captain Aubrey nodded. "Not another like her anywhere. With a proud legacy, too. I hope I do her proud." Aubrey affectionately brushed the ceiling beams, almost as if he was brushing the neck of his prized horse.

Jon smiled a bit. "I'm sure you will, Captain."

Aubrey smiled again. "Thank you. Did you have any troubles getting him on board, Commander?"

Bushnell smirked. "Just Lieutenant Alexa, sir. She apparently has a small… Crush on Ranger Lionheart. Dropped a box of canned goods. I had to remind her she was supposed to help our ambassador get on board." She gave a brief description of what happened.

Aubrey laughed. "She was a little excited when I first announced our guest. I'm sure she'll survive the encounter. Well, Ranger Lionheart, let me show you to your quarters." Captain Aubrey walked over to a door on the starboard side of the lounge and opened it, revealing a small room the occupied the wing of the ships gallery. A net hammock hung along the back window, and a small bench was cut into the wall opposite the hammock, with a mirror above the bench. The windows afforded a striking view of Boston harbor, and one was open with…

"Lance!" Jon walked up and scratched Lance behind the head. He chirped appreciatively, nipping at Jon's left index finger.

"Ah, yes. He arrived about an hour ago. Smart bird, your eagle. Fast, too. Well, I know the quarters are simple but the view is amazing. And it'll give you plenty of privacy. Feel free to come up on deck at any time once we're underway. The stars are amazing at the altitude we're planning to sail. There will be a bell for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And if you need something in between, the cooks can come up with something for you."

Jonathan set his trunk, bag, and broom on the floor, turning to Captain Aubrey. "Thank you, this is perfect." He yawned suddenly. "Sorry."

Aubrey chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Your Headmaster sent a letter with your eagle, stating you hadn't slept well. Feel free to catch some shuteye. With us needing to keep you away from prying eyes, that might just be the best use of your time for now. Besides, nothing better than sleeping in a hammock with the sea air in your cabin."

Jon extended his hand. "Thank you again, Captain. Commander."

Aubrey shook his hand, then Bushnell. "Don't mention it, Jonathan." Bushnell said. "Grab some sleep."

As the two officers closed the door, Jon reached into his bag and pulled out a brown fedora he'd squished flat into the bag. After straightening it out, he put it on his head and jumped into the hammock. "You gonna be okay, Lance?"

Lance cawed a positive note. "Good. Stay close to the ship if you go flying, I don't want you getting lost." Lance tilted his head and squinted. "Don't give me that look. Just stay close, okay?" Eventually, Lance bobbed his head in a slow yes.

Satisfied his eagle would listen, Jon pulled the fedora down over his eyes and fell asleep to the sounds of feet walking wood decks, water lapping on the ships hull, and a faint sea breeze wafting through the open window.

o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o

 _So there is chapter 3. The hardest thing about doing a story with an OC in a well established story is the building part. You need to create this backstory to try and bring your OC to speed with the universe you're plugging them into and making them worthy of being in that story. It feels like a slugfest. I'm sorry if this is taking forever, but we're not far from things getting good. I hope._

Again, if I made any serious screw-ups let me know, I'll fix 'em. Just lemme know.

 _Spellballs, in case you're wondering, are like cannonballs. Except they explode into various spells on contact._


	4. Welcome to England

_So here is chapter four. We're getting much closer to this story catching up with the original._

 _Enjoy and review. Or not. I can't tell you what to do._

 _Oh. One more thing. In case you hadn't guessed, I am an American. Which is peachy, until the heavy dialogue shows up. Now I've met people from England, but usually only after they've lived over here for a while and they sort of speak like us. (read: ain't that a right-nice thang.) So I guess what I'm trying to say is… If you're from England, and my British dialogue sucks, number one, sorry, and number two, how do I fix it?_

o - o - o - o - o

" _The beginning is the most important part of the work."_

 _Plato_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

A strong lurch caused Jonathan, who was half hanging out of the hammock, to fall with a thud onto the floor of his cabin. He woke with a startled gasp, springing to his feet in a low crouch and inspected his surroundings. It was the cabin on the _Constellation,_ but it was mostly dark. He had slept all day and the moon cast some faint white light in the cabin. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavy. "Son-of-a…"

Jon looked over to Lance, who had adopted the bench in the room as his place to sleep. The sound of Jonathan crashing onto the floor hadn't disturbed him at all. Jonathan snorted as he got up. "I'm fine, thanks, pal." Lance didn't move. Jon shook his head.

Jon opened the door to his cabin and entered the captain's day cabin. With no one around, Jon made for the main gun deck. He found one Lieutenant walking the deck with a wrought-iron lamp in one hand. The Lieutenant came over. "Evening, sir. I'm Lieutenant Lane. Is there something I can help you with?"

"What time is it?"

The Lieutenant pulled out a pocket watch. "Currently zero five forty-five UTC. Current local time zone is Greenland, so zero two forty-five, sir."

Jon's eyes widened. "Well, guess the captain was right."

"About what, sir?"

"Hammocks and sea air."

Lieutenant Lane laughed. "Yes, sir. He told us not to disturb you. Said you probably needed the sleep."

Jon nodded sheepishly. "He wasn't wrong. Is there anyone in the galley?"

"There should be a cook down there, sir. Ought to be able to get you something." Lane extended his hand. "I'd just like to say, sir. It's an honor to meet you. I was one of the officers on board when the R.W.A. took the _Connie._ You and your team saved my life. I'm sorry things went the way they did. It was incredibly brave for you all to save us like that."

Jon turned a little pink before shaking his hand. "Well, you're welcome, Lieutenant Lane."

Lane smiled. "I'll let you go, sir. You probably get tired of all the attention."

Jon smirked and nodded a bit. "Usually if they only want to talk about me. You'd be amazed how many people forget there were always others."

Lane nodded in understanding. "It's a shame, sir. No offense to you, but your team was just as heroic. I'll never forget them."

Jon clapped his hand on Lane's shoulder. "Thank you. That really means something to me."

Lane smiled. "I'm glad. The galley is down the next set of stairs towards the middle of the ship, not far from the mainmast."

Jon nodded. "Thanks." Heading towards the stairs that led him to the galley, Jon felt a bit more positive about his past. ' _It's not so bad if they remember my friends. I just hate it when they only talk about me.'_ He found himself on the berth deck, surrounded by sailors in cotton hammocks. A few were awake and offered him salutes, which he returned. The galley was in the middle, nestled next to the main mast and served as a part of a wall that seemed to split the ship in two. One cook was cleaning potatoes when Jon peeked into the small candlelit room. He was a slightly over-weight balding man, maybe in his forties. He certainly fit the stereotypical sailing ship cook description. Jon knocked gently on the doorframe. "Excuse me?"

When the cook looked up and saw who it was, his eyes bulged and he stood quickly into a hasty salute, his voice gravelly and gruff. "Ranger Lionheart, sir! Wha… What can I do for ya?"

Jon returned the salute with a smirk on his face. "At ease. It's just Jonathan here. I was wondering if there might be something I could snag to eat. I, um. I slept the day away." Jonathan finished feebly, rubbing the back of his neck.

The cook smiled. "Absolutely si.. Jonathan! I can whip something up for you right now! What would ya like, some eggs? Bacon?"

"How about something simple? Just some ham slices, maybe a roll, some cheddar and some apple cider, if that's okay?"

The cook looked baffled. "Okay? 'Course it's okay, but dontcha want something a bit more… Well, more?"

Jon chuckled. "Nah, I'm okay. I don't want to put you through too much trouble. Thank you though."

The cook scratched his head. "Well, if that's all ya really want, I'm more than happy to get it ready. I would have just thought…" He paused. "Well, never mind. Don't matter."

Jon smiled. "You expected me to be a bit more demanding?"

The cook frowned. "I'm sorry sir. Er, Jonathan. I've just met other soldiers that didn't even fight half as much as ya did, and they acted like…"

"Like prima-donnas?" Jon cut in, frowning. "I don't understand it, myself. We fought and we survived; that's all. We fought for what was right, what was just. We shouldn't be crying for fame. We're no more special than the next witch or wizard."

The cook chortled. "Well, ain't sure about that last bit. I just didn't know what to expect from ya, but I gots to admit, you're right kind. And modest, too." The cook grabbed a small canvas bag, tossed in a roll, a good-sized wedge of cheddar and several thick slices of ham. He tied a string around the bag and handed it and a canteen to Jon. "There ya are, son. A good ol' fashioned picnic for ya." The cook wiped his hands on his apron and then extended one to Jon. "Thank ya, Jonathan. For everything you did. I know you lost…" He wiped a tear from his eyes. "Dang onions. Well, I know ya lost a lot mor'n most, but I know that your friends would be right proud."

Jon shook his hand. "Well, I hope so. Hey, I never caught your name?"

"Oh! It's Leroy. Leroy Biggs."

Jon smiled, lifting the sack. "Thanks for this, Leroy. I'll get out of your hair."

Jon started making for the ladder to the above decks, hearing Leroy talk to himself in amazement. "What a man that one is. Class act."

Climbing up to the top deck, Jon was greeted with an amazing sight. The stars shone like he had never seen them before. They almost didn't look real they were so vibrant. He walked towards the right-side railing and looked out across the sky. _Constellation_ was sailing above the clouds, her bow cutting wakes in the highest cloud tops, sometimes with puffs of vapor swooshing over the deck. The Atlantic Ocean stretched for as far as his eye could see, twinkling in the bright moonlight. It was a mesmerizing view, one that Jon had never really been allowed to appreciate, as all his time on ships before had been in combat, getting ready for combat, or running from combat.

Jon started making his way towards the bow, looking for a place out of the way to eat his snack. A few sailors and officers were walking the top deck, making sure the rigging was tight and the _Connie_ was sailing smoothly. They'd salute as he got near, and he'd return it. Eventually he found a spot up on the forecastle railing, against the _Connie's_ bow spirit. Sitting on the large flat railing with his back against the bow spirit, Jon had a mostly un-hindered view of the entire world in front of him. He could vaguely make out Greenland below, with more ocean straight ahead. He set the bag down on the deck and broke off a chunk of cheddar.

He munched happily on the cheese, suddenly feeling elated, knowing that he was heading to something new, and it didn't matter if he was going into a new war or not; this was his choice. He could have said no. He could have stayed at Ilvermorny. He was given that choice. But a man he respected thought he could do this, and that was enough for Jon to say yes. He started laughing. He had no clue what he'd been so worried about. For the first time since he was eleven, he was doing what he wanted to do because he wanted to. He looked back at the _Connie's_ rigging, her sails glowing in the moonlight, the occasional lamp casting warm candlelight across the top deck. He loved this moment, right here. He smiled as another poem came to his mind.

"I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and sky, and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, and a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking."

A shy voice came from behind him. "I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, to the gull's way and whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife; and all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, and quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over."

Jon hopped off the railing and turned to see Lieutenant Alexa walk up and rest her arms on the railing next to him. She was in her dress whites, but she was wearing a wool navy pea coat over top. Her honey blonde hair was pulled into a bun, with strands blowing everywhere in the breeze of the ship's motion. The light from the moon cast her in an ethereal light, and Jon saw all the features of her face. She had a slightly large forehead, paired with pronounced, but fair cheekbones. Her nose was strong, but perfectly sized and straight, no bulge on the ridge or a slight twist in either direction. Her jaw was also pronounced, but it had a gentle curve at the bottom. Her smile was large and infectious. Her top teeth were angled slightly out, but it just seemed to add to, what Jon though, was her beauty. She had a light dusting of freckles across her face, and Jon remembered that her eyes were as blue as a summer sky. She smiled shyly at him. "Sea Fever by John Masefield. That's always been one of my favorite poems."

Jon half-smiled. "It's a good one. Seemed fitting."

"Yeah. I can imagine." Lieutenant Alexa looked down at her hands, which she was fiddling with. "Umm. Earlier, below deck. I just… Wanted to apologize. For acting like a schoolgirl."

Jon chuckled. "That's funny. I can't seem to remember anything school-girlish happening this morning at all." Jon grinned at the Lieutenant, as she seemed to be massively relieved. "I'm Jon. Jon Lionheart." He offered his hand.

Alexa took it. "Katherine. Katherine Alexa."

"Pleased to meetcha."

She laughed, then looked back down at her hands, almost seeming to blush. "Oh, we've already met. You might not remember, though."

A puzzled look passed over Jon's face. "Umm…"

Katherine laughed softly. "It's alright. It was, umm. It was the night we almost lost the _Connie._ Once they had started… Killing the officers. You saved me from the Cruciatus."

Jon sucked in a quick breath, the memory coming back to him.

o – o – o – o – o

 _There was a scream coming from below on the gun deck. It was the kind of scream you gave when your worst nightmare became real. Jon looked out from behind the crate he was taking cover behind._

 _Augustus and Jupiter were fighting back to back, blasting spells and hexes up at R.W.A. troops in the rigging. Edward was taking cover behind one of the cannons that had rolled back from its battery position. He was outnumbered eight to one easily, and from the pounding of curses, it wasn't going to last much longer. Jon wanted to help him, but he also knew that the R.W.A. was probably killing crewmembers down below. A high-pitched yell caught his attention._

 _"Get below, Jon!" It was Kawisenhawe. "They're killing the crew! Help them out, I'll get Edward!"_

 _Kawi bolted towards Edward, blasting hexes at the R.W.A. soldiers that had him pinned. Jon put his wand into his sleeve holster and dove for the grate that was covering the stairs to the gun deck, drawing his saber as he clambered down the stairs. Sure enough, there were five R.W.A. officers torturing several of the crewmembers. Two of the captives were officers, and a large burn mark on the floor indicated someone had already been hit with a Confrigo curse._

 _None of the five R.W.A. officers had noticed him; Jon thrust his saber toward the soldier closest to him. "Carpe Retractum!" A rope shot out the end of his saber, wrapping itself around the soldier and yanking him into the blade. Jon yanked hard, pulling the saber free, then jumping towards the soldier casting a Crucio on a pretty honey blonde female Ensign._

 _The soldier spun and yelled "Defodio!" Jon used his saber to block the curse, then stabbed the officer once in the stomach, and again in the heart. Yanking the saber free again, he pointed it at the soldier coming to his right. "Petrificus Totalis!" That soldier fell to the ground frozen._

 _Another soldier to his left sent a_ _Lacarnum Inflamari towards Jon, which he just barely rolled out of the way of, taking a bad burn to his left shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he cast a Fumos around the room, charging the fourth soldier and slashing him across the throat, then at the back of the knees. This left the last officer, a Captain. He had taken the opportunity to take a hostage and was holding Lieutenant Commander Bushnell against his body, his wand at her head. "Drop the sword, boy, or I'll end her."_

 _Jonathan looked at the Commander, who shook her head slightly. She was fumbling with her right hand, and Jon saw the end of a wand slip out from her jacket sleeve. "Alright. Alright." He knelt, putting his saber down on the deck while reaching back towards his left ankle. The moment the soldier relaxed, Bushnell yanked her arm up and jammed her wand into his left eye, then jumped forward. Jon yanked a spare wand from his left ankle. "Reducto!" The Captain exploded into a fine mist. Jonathan turned and saw the honey blonde Ensign still lying on the deck, whimpering. He knelt down next to her, offering her a hand. "Are you alright?"_

 _Commander Bushnell pulled him away. "She'll be fine, Ranger. You'd better head back up. I'll try and free some of the crew to help, and put that one in the brig." She nodded towards the petrified officer._

 _Jonathan lurched towards the stairs that went to the top deck._

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon pursed his lips, then took a drink from the canteen. "No. I remember."

Katherine nodded slowly. "I'm a little surprised. A lot happened that night. You almost didn't make it yourself."

Jon nodded. "Yeah. Not, um. Not a favorite night."

Katherine seemed to step a little closer to where he was sitting. "I'm so sorry. About your friends. They were all very brave. I don't think we'd be here if it wasn't for all of you."

Jon gave a small smile. "Thank you."

Again, she seemed to get closer. "If you don't mind me asking, what have you been doing since the war ended? We haven't heard a whole lot about you after the Battle of Ilvermorny."

"Not a lot, really. Just trying to unwind. Get used to life without war." Jon answered, shrugging. "Aren't you on duty? Shouldn't you be, umm…"

She chuckled, appearing to have shifted even closer. "Lieutenant Nox can handle the watch for a few moments." She bit her bottom lip. "Is it true you might be going to another war?"

Jon looked at her puzzled. "Come again?"

"Well, Captain Aubrey briefed us on why you were here, and that we needed to keep it a secret. Is it true? The Dark Lord might be back?"

Jon sighed. "Nothing's really been confirmed. There are rumors, but nothing else. I'm just supposed to see if those rumors are true and help fight if they are."

"Wow."

"Wow?"

She seemed to blush again, looking back down at her feet. "If I were you, I'd never want to see so much as an argument. But here you are, going off into what could be the most dangerous fight in the whole Wizarding world. Just after getting done with a Civil War. " She looked at him with admiration. "I wish I was as brave as you."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Well, you're still here. You could have resigned your commission. Gone to Ilvermorny instead of the Wizarding Naval Academy."

Katherine was standing right next to him now, her hands holding onto his left arm. "I guess that's true. But there's a lot of pressure from people for me to stay here. You… You don't really have that. You can do whatever you want."

Jon looked at her hands, then back into her face. "Umm… Yeah. I guess I could." He struggled to think of something to say and in true male fashion came up with something spectacular. "So, um. What's up with the uniforms? They're a lot newer than I, um, remember."

She chuckled. "It's part of MACUSA's attempt to present a renewed and more unified country. We got them first, being the flagship and heading out to re-establish relations. Eventually, every unit will get a new uniform."

"Ah." Jon went _pfft._ "I'm not gettin' my memos."

Katherine laughed. "She bit her lip. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Are you… Hmm. Are… Do you have a girlfriend?"

 _'Uh oh.'_ Jon shook his head. "Uh. Nope. No."

She looked up at him. "That's good." She leaned up to kiss him.

Jon was tempted to let her kiss him, but something about it felt wrong. He gently grabbed her by arms and stopped her. "Whoa… Umm. Easy there." He pulled back and saw hurt written on the Lieutenant's face. "Hey, I'm flattered. Really, I am. You're a very beautiful girl, but… I don't know you. I mean, maybe I'm living by an archaic code or something but…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've never… Kissed a girl before. And I'd kinda like to know the first girl I kiss."

She stumbled back a step. "I just thought…Oh, I'm so _stupid!"_ She turned and stormed off towards the quarterdeck, leaving Jon feeling bewildered and a bit guilty.

He turned back towards the ocean, shaking his head. Grabbing the block of cheddar off the rail of the ship, he took another bite. "Yep. That went well."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

The last day of the journey went smoother in Jon's opinion. He stayed in his cabin to catch up on some reading and stay out of the crew's way. Captain Aubrey extended an invitation for dinner the last night of the trip with several of the officers. Lieutenant Alexa was not there, and aside from a quick toast to the Seventh Rangers, the meal was filled with laughter and Jon made friends with much of the command crew.

The morning the _Constellation_ arrived in London was foggy and rainy. According to Captain Aubrey, the British Ministry of Magic had arranged for this, as they were concerned the _Constellation's_ Disillusionment charms weren't up to par with their standards. Several Aurors flew alongside the _Connie_ to guide her slowly up the Thames.

Per Captain Aubrey's request, Jon stayed in his quarters for the river trip, watching the city pass by in his cabin. "We're putting in at a Ministry dock at the Palace of Westminster. Just in case the press over here has gotten word of you, we need to keep you hidden. I'll have Commander Bushnell get you when we're ready to disembark."

Eventually the calls to take in sail were given, and _Constellation_ slowed to a halt hovering next to the Westminster Palace. Jon checked the clock on the wall against Big Ben. "Ha! Big Ben's off by two minutes."

The door to his cabin opened and Commander Bushnell came in, carrying a large wooden cage. "Morning. I brought this for Lance. You'll need to keep him in it for the time being." Lance cawed and eyed the cage mutinously. Bushnell laughed. "And I don't think I'm going to help with that. Hey, where's your backpack?"

Jon picked his pack off the floor. "Got it."

"Empty it out real quick. I noticed you don't have it extended."

Jon looked puzzled but quickly dumped everything on the floor. "Oh! Undetectable extension charms. Duh."

Bushnell worked on the bag silently for a moment before handing it back. "I'm surprised you don't know how to do that yourself."

"Well, I had… Others that knew how to do it."

Bushnell laughed. "Ah. Teamwork."

Jon grinned. "Exactly."

"Well, you're going to have to learn how to do that for yourself now." She took a step back looking over Jon's appearance and frowning suddenly, seeing the two flags still on his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry, but we're gonna have to take those flags off." She pointed her wand at each flag and the stitching came undone, the flags falling to the floor. A quick _Reparo_ had the jacket looking like the patches had never been there.

Jon bent down and grabbed the flags from the floor, stuffing them in his backpack. "Well. It's getting real now, isn't it?"

"You bet it is, Ranger." She put her wand away, seeing Jon stiffen in determination at the title. "You know what to do, soldier?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled. "Good." The _Constellation_ shuddered gently as she splashed into the Thames. "Remember, keep your military background out of your history, your extra wands hidden, and try to act like a normal teen."

Jon remembered something a No-Maj told him in New York. "Normal is just a setting on a washing machine."

Bushnell laughed. "Well, there you go."

Looking out the windows of the cabin, members of the Ministry were helping to secure _Constellation_ to the dock. Several soft thuds indicated that gangplanks had been extended to the ship. Jon started putting all his stuff back in his backpack, unceremoniously chucking things in to save time.

"Oh," Bushnell said. "Lieutenant Nox told me something last night. He mentioned that Lieutenant Alexa made an advance towards you."

"Oh." Jon rubbed the back of his neck. "Umm… Yeah, she… Kinda… Yeah." He looked at Bushnell. "She's not in trouble, is she?"

"No. You're not a member of the crew, so fraternization isn't prohibited. I just wanted to thank you for stopping her."

"Uh. Thank me?"

Bushnell chortled. "She's been… Mildly obsessed with you since you saved our lives. If she'd actually kissed you, one of two things would have happened. She'd have either never shut up about it and annoyed us to death, or she'd have felt miserable and guilty. As it is she already feels pretty embarrassed about it."

Jon crammed the last shirt into his backpack. "Well, she doesn't need to feel bad. I mean… I'm flattered. Really, I am. It's just…" He sighed. "I don't really know her. And I'm getting ready to be here in England for who knows how long. And who knows, maybe I'll want to stay here when the whole Voldemort threat is over. So it's just… Really, really crappy timing."

Bushnell looked at him approvingly. "For only being fifteen, you see things incredibly clearly. I'll let her know she can stop feeling embarrassed."

"Can I do that, actually?"

Bushnell's eyebrows went up. "You want to talk to her?"

"Well, I may have… Really badly explained how I felt about her. And, I mean… She is really pretty." Jon shoved his broom into the backpack.

Bushnell laughed. "So there is a normal fifteen-year-old boy in there. Okay, Jonathan. I'll go get her. You finish packing." She left the cabin.

Jon turned his attention to Lance. Lance looked at him, looked at the cage, then glared at Jon. Jon smirked, but then knelt in front of Lance. "I guess I owe you an apology first, pal." Lance tilted his head in a look of confusion, wanting Jon to explain.

"I made the assumption you'd want to come with me. I didn't really give you a choice. So I'm giving you one now. You can come with me to Hogwarts, or you can go back home with the _Connie._ I know you still have a brother back home, and there aren't going to be any female bald eagles around here so… So I understand if you want to go back home."

Lance looked even more frustrated, and when Jon went to scratch his head he nipped at Jon's fingers as if to say "You're a real idiot, you know? I'm your friend, I'm going with you."

Jon pulled his hand back, chuckling. "Okay, okay. I just wanted to give you a choice, pal. It could get rough. But if you're coming with, you're gonna have to go in this cage for now."

Lance scowled at the cage, but jumped from his window perch and walked into the open cage, hopped onto the perch on gave Jon a "Satisfied?" look.

Jon laughed and gave Lance a chunk of salted ham. "Thanks, Lance. I'm gonna need your help while I'm here, I know it."

Lance looked at Jon and chirped softly. Translation; "I know."

A small cough came from behind him. "He's a really sweet eagle."

Jon stood up and saw Lieutenant Alexa standing in the door to his cabin. He smiled. "Yeah. He's… My best friend. Look, I umm. I wanted to talk to you about the other night."

Katherine turned pink. "I was… Being childish…"

Jon waved her off. "Eh. We are kids, still." Jon chuckled. "Look, I just wanted to say that I really am flattered that you're interested in me. It's just… Bad timing." He looked down. "If I wasn't going off to do… Whatever it is I'm gonna end up doing… I'd be very interested in you."

She went from pink to red, but a smile graced her lips. "Thank… Thank you."

He smiled back. "You're welcome."

She looked away. "So, ummm…"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She walked up to him. "Well, be safe, Jon." She leaned up and kissed him on his cheek, lingering a little longer than normal. She smiled as she pulled back. "That's for luck." Then she walked out of the room.

Jon sighed, turning to grab his backpack, trunk and Lance's cage. "Oh well."

"That was very sweet of you." It was Bushnell.

Jon turned to look at her, his backpack on his back, trunk under his left arm, holding Lance with his right. "Really?"

She nodded. "She feels much better. You can see it, she's all bouncy as she walks around the ship now."

Jon's brow furrowed. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh… Enough."

Jon pinked. "Well, I meant it."

"I know." She pulled out a pocket watch. "Alright. Let's get you out of here. Small change of plans; the Ministry sent a car for you, it's going to take you to King's Cross station where you're supposed to get on a train heading for Manchester."

"Right. To my, uh, family."

"Correct. Go in and act like you're gonna catch a train, but get a cab to take you to Charing Cross road. You can't miss the Leaky Cauldron, I'm told." She showed him a canvas bag before stuffing it into his backpack. "Galleons, sickles, and knuts. There's an account opened for you at Gringotts Vault in Diagon Alley. You could retire now and live quite comfortably for the rest of your life, honestly." She handed him a wallet. "And that's local No-Maj currency. Enough to get you through a couple of months in No-Maj London."

Jon put the wallet in his back jeans pocket and followed the Bushnell to the top deck. Several prominent looking Ministry officials were talking with the American ambassador and Captain Aubrey, who gave Jon a nod as they caught each other's eye. Bushnell led him down a gangplank towards the Palace. She pointed to a wooden door on the wall facing them. "There are two Aurors waiting to inspect your luggage in there. I can't go with you past this point. From this moment on, _Mr._ Lionheart, you're on your own." She extended her hand. "Good luck."

He shook it. "Thank you, Commander. For everything."

"No. Thank you."

Jon walked towards the wooden door, opening it with a heavy creak. Before he stepped inside, he turned and gave the _Constellation_ one last look. It was as if the _Constellation_ had become America, and this could be the last time he'd ever see it again. On the top of her mainmast, the standard of the Seventh Rangers popped in and out of the low ceilings. "Goodbye, old girl." He turned and entered the palace, seeing the two Aurors that would inspect his luggage.

Two men wearing brown trench coats stood with their hands in front of them. They could have passed for No-Maj secret service, if it wasn't for the wands in holsters tucked into the fronts of their pants. One had medium-length curly black hair, the other was bad. They both had faces that you would see and forget in an instant. ' _Perfect for being an auror, I guess.'_

The one with hair spoke first. "Good morning, sir."

"'Mornin'."

"You must be Jonathan Lionheart. I'm Auror Whitehall, this is Auror Gripple. We're with the Ministry of Magic to inspect your luggage. Would you please set your bag and trunk on the floor please?"

"Yeah, no problem." He set his bag and trunk on the floor. "The, uh, trunk is under a _reducto._ "

The bald one nodded. "That won't be a problem."

They spent the next ten minutes going through his stuff. Jon was a bit nervous, but he just turned that into standing like an impatient teenager: a little restless, and always looking around.

Eventually, the bald one spoke. "Your broom is unique. I've never seen a metal broom before."

Jon smiled. "One of a kind. Ilvermorny has a broom maker and she's a little… Eccentric."

"Is it weaponized?"

"Nope. Just really fast."

The broom was shoved back into his backpack. Auror Whitehall looked at him. "So, how bad was the war?"

"Oh. Umm. Pretty bad."

"I understand you lost your parents. I'm sorry to hear that."

Jon nodded, swallowing. "Thanks."

"Did you do any fighting for the military over there?"

Jon shook his head. "No. I stayed at Ilvermorny. The only fighting I saw was when Ilvermorny was… Attacked. We all kinda had to fight then."

Whitehall nodded. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. But things are quite peaceful here in England. You'll be able to have a nice quiet time here."

Jon nodded, fiddling with his feet. "I hope so. I don't… Really want to go through that again."

Whitehall nodded, and Auror Gripple handed him his backpack. "Alright, everything looks in order. We have a car waiting to take you to King's Cross-station. There you can catch a train to see your relatives in Manchester."

Jon nodded. "Gotcha."

The two men led Jon down a long and ornate hallway that ended in glass double doors leading to a courtyard under the shadow of Big Ben. A British Racing Green Jaguar Mk10 with Ministry seals on the back doors sat idling in the drive around the courtyard, another trench coated Auror sitting in the driver seat. "Auror Royce will drive you to Kings Cross. And welcome to England, Mr. Lionheart. Like I said, you'll have a much quieter life here, I'm sure of it."

Jon nodded, extending his hand. "Thanks." Whitehall shook his hand while Gripple loaded his bag and trunk into the trunk of the Jag. Jon carried Lance and his cage into the backseat. Whitehall shut the door and the Jag rolled away, heading to King's Cross.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

It was a quiet twenty-minute ride to King's Cross in the Ministry Jag. The Auror driving didn't say anything, and Jon was glad for it. The less talking he needed to do to officials, the better.

Eventually, the Jag came to a stop in front of King's Cross. The Auror went for the trunk while Jon stepped out and surveyed his surroundings. He was surprised; there didn't appear to be any other Aurors at the station. He took his backpack and trunk from the Auror, thanked him and made for the inside of the station. Once he was inside, he took a quick glance behind him.

The Auror was apparently satisfied Jon was going where he was supposed to, and the Jag rolled away. Jon took a quick look around for anyone that looked cliché and spy-ish. Satisfied that no one was around, he walked back outside and hailed a London cab. "Can you take me to the Blockbuster on Charing Cross Road, please?"

The driver nodded. "Sure thing, mate."

After throwing all his stuff in the cab, the driver started making his way to Charing Cross Road. It took about fifteen minutes and Jon made the mental observation that most everything magical in London seemed to be pretty bunched together.

The cab came to a stop in front of the Blockbuster and Jon paid his fare. Standing on the sidewalk holding his stuff, he looked around for the Leaky Cauldron. The only thing that seemed to stick out was a run down and wore out storefront, so Jon started walking towards it. Sure enough, as he got to within a few feet, the wooden sign went from old and beat to bright and new looking, the Leaky Cauldron written on it in gold letters. Jon took one last look up and down the street to make sure he wasn't followed, then walked on in.

It was not what Jon was expecting. In America, most inns and bars resemble No-Maj locations, except for the oldest of businesses. Here, the Cauldron made Jon think he stepped back into the fourteen hundreds. Jon half expected to see knights sitting at the tables. There was an old and beat looking oak bar, several old oak tables and chairs, and stairs to a second level to the left of the room. There were only a few people in the bar, and they were very clearly wizards and witches of stereotypical No-Maj depictions.

A large but old and stooped bald man came out of what Jon assumed was the kitchen and entered the bar. He saw Jon standing in the middle of the room looking a bit puzzled. "Hey boy, come here."

Jon did as he was asked, but felt suddenly nervous. He made like he was scratching his back to get his hand close to his first, and favorite wand.

The bartender leaned over as Jon stood next to it. "Is your name Jon Lionheart?" The old man whispered.

Jon tensed even more, hand tightening on the grip of his wand. Jon was supposed to meet Headmaster Dumbledore here, and this wasn't the man he'd seen in pictures. "Depends on who's askin'."

The barman moved his hands in a low "easy now" motion. "Easy lad, it's alright. My name's Tom, I run the Cauldron. Headmaster Dumbledore set up a room for you." He reached over and grabbed a key from the wall and handed it to Jon. "Room nine is yours. Dumbledore will be here around seven tonight to see you." He dug into his apron and pulled out a letter, handing it to Jon. "Your acceptance letter to Hogwarts, as well as a list of all the supplies you're going to need."

Jon took the letter, calming down a bit. "Thank you, Mr…"

The old man waved him off. "Tom's fine. Everyone calls me Tom." He eyed Jonathan, then leaned in. "If you don't mind me saying, you look like you've seen a few things. Where are you from, lad?"

"The States."

"Oh. We heard rumors… About a war. Is it true?"

Jon swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. They're true."

"And you were in it?"

Jon winced. "Sort of. The last battle of the war was over our school Ilvermorny. It was… Hell." Jon looked down, trying to be an emotional teen. "I, um. I lost a lot of friends."

Tom shook his head. "Ah, lad, I'm sorry to hear that. I wish I could say that things here were going to be better, but there are… Rumors and strange goings-on. It's getting a bit scary."

"So I've heard."

Tom scrutinized Jon, then had a small look of realization. "Ahh. So that's why you're here."

Jon tensed again. "I don't know what you mean."

Tom smiled. "Of course, of course. I know you don't." He wiped his hands on his apron, stepping back. "Well, like I said, room nine is yours. The entrance to Diagon Alley is through the wall in the courtyard out back. There's a trashcan; tap the brick three up and two across from the can. There you can buy all you need." He noticed Lance in the cage. "My my, a bald eagle! Do all American wizards have one?"

Jon laughed. "No. Just me. That I know of, anyway. I saved his life. He's been with me ever since."

Tom laughed. "Animals can be very strange sometimes. Love their freedom but will give it up for the right person." He looked at Jon thoughtfully. "I have a good feeling about you, boy. But you'd best head up and settle in for a bit. Folks are paying attention."

"Gotcha. Thanks, Tom."

Jon headed upstairs and entered room number nine. He set Lance's cage down first, then dropped his backpack and his trunk on the floor. He looked at Lance. "I'll let you out of the cage, but you can't leave this room. Not yet. We don't really know what to expect." Lance chirped and nodded, then hopped quickly flew to the top of the four post bed and sat watching the door.

"As for me, buddy. I'm grabbing a nap."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

Jon grabbed about four hours of sleep before opening the letter and checking the list of things he would need to buy. Seemed like simple stuff; work robes he would need, and a set of dress robes. He had plenty of oxfords and slacks from Ilvermorny, but he'd probably need to replace the pullover sweaters to match the Hogwarts coat of arms. That left a couple of books; _The Standard Book of Spells grade five_ and _Defensive Magical Theory._ Jon rolled his eyes. ' _I'm gonna have to play dumb for that.'_

He stuffed his list into an inner pocket in his leather jacket and threw the jacket on. He cast two _Engorgio_ spells on his trunk to bring it back to size, reached in and grabbed his wand holster. It was a dark leather holster, mildly resembling Old West rigs that Cowboys used to wear. It sat angled on his body, the right side leaning down farther than the left. He grabbed his favorite wand and slid it in, then grabbed the moneybag the Commander had given him and made his way downstairs, casting a _Colloportus_ on the door to his room.

He stepped into the small courtyard out back and found the correct brick, giving it a quick tap with his wand. The wall opened to reveal a small cobbled street that easily belonged in a seventeen hundreds London. There were shops all over and Jon made his way quickly and quietly to each one he needed, picking up his supplies.

An hour later he was almost ready to go back to the Leaky Cauldron. The experience of Diagon Alley was nothing like what he was used to. At Ilvermorny, most of these things were waiting for students at the school. Books were often second hand, especially during the war, but students took care of them so they lasted. Uniforms came from a school tailor, but the students that were in the C.W.A. just wore their uniforms to class in case they needed to leave quickly, which Jon always did.

Jon stumbled onto a shop called Ollivanders. He looked inside and saw it was a wand shop. Intrigued, Jon stepped inside. He watched as an old man with curly white hair and silvery eyes helped a young witch pick out her first wand. Jon found the process amusing as the girl tried several different wands and seemed to only create havoc around the shop.

It wasn't quite as elegant as when Jon got his first wand. While there were a few wand shops in America, they were usually only used by rich or snobby students. While Jon's parents weren't hurting for money, Jon decided to use Ilvermorny's wand crafter. She was an old Native American woman known simply as the Wand Crafter. No one knew a lot about her, except that she was something of a gypsy, traveling the world to create her wands. She was also known for always matching a wizard with their wand on the first try. Jon smiled as he remembered the day he got the wand strapped to his thigh.

o – o – o – o – o – o - o

 _The door to the broom hangar closed behind him, and Jon found himself looking at an all-wooden purple and brown Gypsy wagon. He stepped towards it, stopping just before the steps that led to the door at the back. A soft voice called to him from inside. "Come in, young Lionheart."_

 _His heart sped up as he opened the door and stepped inside. The wagon was dark and smoky, but smelled pleasant, almost like a forest in the rain. An elderly American Indian woman sat cross-legged in front of a small blue fire, waving the smoke from the flames around the wagon. He fidgeted. "Hello."_

 _She looked at him and smiled a large, kind smile. "Hello, Jonathan. I've been looking forward to meeting you. Please, sit."_

 _He sat down cross-legged in front of the fire. "How… How do you know my name?"_

 _"I know many things about you, Jonathan. And I desire to know even more. Did your parents tell you that I gave them their first wands?"_

 _Jonathan nodded. "My mom did."_

 _"And did they tell you what happens?"_

 _Jon looked concerned for a moment. "They said you're gonna look into my head and heart. To see what kind of wizard I will be so I can get a good wand."_

 _She laughed. "Not a good wand, young one, the right wand. There is a difference. You will learn this as you grow older." She paused, looking him over. "Are you afraid?"_

 _He paused. "A little."_

 _"Too afraid to go on?"_

 _He shook his head quickly. "No. I can do it."_

 _"That is good. You are brave, like your parents." She reached into the fire and pulled some flames out, holding them in her hands. "You will feel no pain." She blew the fire into his face, and it went down his mouth and up his nose. His eyes rolled back into his head, but he could still hear what the woman was saying._

 _"Hmm. A strong heart. With bravery and determination. I suspected as much. With honor, and loyalty. A code. Ahh… A little impulsive. Could be trouble. Pride, but not in himself. In his actions. Never stops. A fighter."_

 _She continued. "But there is more than just a warrior. Love. A deep ability to love. Concern for others. Intelligence. A love for knowledge. Kindness towards all. Fairness. Protectiveness. And passion. Much passion. A drive like I've never seen. A true warrior poet."_

 _She blew some smoke into his face and his eyes rolled back to normal. He felt dizzy for a moment but shook his head quickly to refocus. She smiled at his playfulness but became sad looking. "A wizard such as yourself is made to suffer. And suffer you will, I'm afraid. Most warriors do. But you will also flourish. You will grow to be a great warrior, and a powerful force in the wizarding world."_

 _"But you must be careful, young Lionheart. Power and strength alone will corrupt any person without control. You must stay true to whom you are. You must never lose your humility. Your ability to love. You must always only fight for what is right. You must keep your emotions in check. If you can stay true to who you are, and do not let others sway you from the course… You could be one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived."_

 _She pulled a wand from her left shirtsleeve. "I crafted this wand many years ago, and both it and I have waited for a wizard worthy of it." The wand was two-toned crème and dark brown. "This is Yew wood, from a tree in Scotland. A land famous for men like what you will become."_

 _"Like I'll become?"_

 _She smiled. "A warrior poet, Jonathan." She held the wand out with both hands. "Twelve and a half inches in length, and supple. It can bend a great deal without breaking, yet it is still firm and will stand strong against long odds. Much like I suspect you will. The core comes from a Phoenix I encountered in Japan, a land of renowned warriors."_

 _She gave Jon a stern look. "Stay true to yourself, Jon Lionheart. For with this wand, you will have the power over life and death. It is an immense power, and only the strongest of wizards can wield it properly. For good." She handed him the wand._

 _As soon as the wand touched his hand, Jon felt a warmth inside. He looked the wand over, noticing all the intricate carvings. He looked at the bottom of the grip and saw… "A lions head!" He exclaimed._

 _The Wand Crafter laughed. "Yes, young Lionheart. As I said, both the wand and myself have waited a long time for you."_

 _Jon waved the wand gently, causing sparks of all different colors to shoot out. "It's amazing." He looked at the Wand Crafter. "I swear I will always do what is right."_

 _She smiled. "I know you will."_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon rubbed the grip of his wand gently, smiling at the memory.

"Excuse me, young man. May I help you?"

Jon turned to see the old man standing next to him. "Oh, no. Sorry. I was just… Admiring."

The man smiled. "Wands are meant to be admired as much as they are to be used. I always appreciate a wizard that appreciates wands, however, I don't think I've ever seen you in here before."

"Ah. Well, I'm not from around here. I'm from the States."

The man's eyes widened in excitement. "Aha! You're the first ever American to study at Hogwarts! Jon… Jon Lionheart, I believe. It's a very good pleasure to meet you. I'm Garrick Ollivander." He extended his hand.

Jon shook it. "It's good to meetcha."

Ollivander smiled, then looked at Jon's wand. "If you don't mind me asking, I know it's very personal, but… May I see your wand?"

Jon nodded, pulling his wand from his holster. "Sure."

Ollivander inspected the wand, his eyebrows shooting up immediately. "Yew. A rare wood. And supple. Twelve and a half inches long." He looked at Jonathan with a scrutinizing look. "May I inquire as to the core."

"Uh, the feather of a phoenix from Japan."

Ollivander took two steps back from Jonathan. "A Japanese Phoenix is a powerful being. These wands always choose a warrior…" He looked at Jonathan with almost distrust. "I believe I already know, but who crafted this wand, was she the one to give it to you?"

"Yes, she did. I only know her as the Wand Crafter. She's a… Bit of a gypsy, really."

Ollivander relaxed and smiled immediately. "Ah, all is well then! I have met your Wand Crafter. She's a bit eccentric for my tastes; her wands aren't very consistent. But her craftsmanship cannot be denied. And she has never given a wand to a dark wizard." He handed the wand back to Jon, who tucked it gently into his holster. Ollivander looked him up and down again. "There's more to you than we know, isn't there Mr. Lionheart?"

Jon swallowed, not sure of what to say. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

Ollivander smiled again. "Well, we'll know soon, I guess." Another young wizard came into the store. "Ah, yes, I have to go. Do take care. And good luck at Hogwarts!"

Jon left the store, watching Ollivander help the young boy pick a new wand. He looked at a clock hanging off Gringotts Wizarding Bank. It was six thirty. Jon headed back to the Cauldron.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

Jon was packing all his new things into his backpack and trunk. He hadn't eaten yet, but he figured he'd wait until after he spoke with Headmaster Dumbledore. He was putting his new robes into his backpack when he heard a 'crack' out in the hallway. He turned and drew his wand, approaching the door cautiously. A soft knock at the door made him less nervous.

"You may put the wand away, Mr. Lionheart."

The voice was soft and lighthearted. Jon put his wand back in the holster and opened the door. He was greeted by a kind old wizard with a long silver beard, with long silver hair. A purple cloak covered his robes, and half-moon spectacles sat in front of kind, bright blue eyes. His nose was long and crooked.

The wizard smiled. "Hello, Jonathan. I'm Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. May I come in?"

"Oh. Yeah, please." Jon held the door open, the checked the hallway once Dumbledore was inside before closing the door. "Sorry about the mess. I just wanted to be packed for tomorrow."

Dumbledore nodded, sitting in one of the wingback chairs in front of the fireplace. "Quite understandable. Tomorrow is a big day. Are you looking forward to it?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, actually. A lot. I was, umm… A bit worried I'd be dreading it."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's certainly understandable. It's a lot of change happening very quickly."

"Huh. Yeah, it is that."

"Were you able to find all your supplies?"

"Yeah, easily enough. Diagon Alley is, uhh. Different, than what I'm used to. Kinda amazing, actually."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it can be." He looked at the books on the bed, his brow furrowing. "Did you need to buy used books? I was under the impression you would be given a significant allowance."

Jon went slightly pink. "Oh. Yeah, I was. I'm just, kinda used to old books. The war made getting new ones a bit tricky. Besides, you should always try to live well within your means. Never know when you might need money for something important."

Dumbledore nodded, impressed. "Quite true. Very wise of you. Will you sit?" Jon sat in the other wingback chair. Lance turned to look at the both of them from the top of the bed, and Dumbledore looked up at him. "Oh, hello. You must be Lance."

Lance chirped happily. Jon grinned. "That's him. He came with, even when I offered him a chance to stay."

Dumbledore smiled a knowing smile. "Well, eagles are arguably the most loyal of the birds. How did you two come together?"

"I saved his life. He was being abused by some kids. He's been with me ever since."

Dumbledore smiled. "It is said that the bald eagle is the wisest and pickiest when it comes to choosing a companion, which is why they are rarely seen with wizards. They rarely find a wizard they can live with." Dumbledore looked at Jon as if seeing something rare. "Anyway. Do you know why I wanted to meet you here?"

Jon nodded. "You wanted to go over what you think is happening, and make sure I know what I could be getting into."

"Just so. Tell me, what do you know already. I do not wish to insult your intelligence."

Jon sighed. "Well, Cliff's notes, I suspect. Umm. You have a young wizard, close to my age, named Harry Potter. He seems to be the target of a dark wizard named Voldemort, who hates wizards that come from a No-Maj family."

Dumbledore nodded. "Continue."

"Uh, for whatever reason Voldemort tried to kill Harry as a baby and failed. Harry's parents were killed, but Harry survived. It was believed that Voldemort was dead until recently when Harry Potter claimed to have seen Voldemort get a new body during the Triwizard Tournament."

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Roughly accurate. May I ask why don't you seem afraid of Voldemort?"

Jon shrugged again. "This may sound cliché, but I don't have fear of another man. Or, woman, for that matter. Besides, you have to name your enemy if you're going to fight him."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well said. Now, you are correct in your brief assessment. However, there are a few important details. Voldemort has followers. Many of them. They've either been in hiding since the First Wizarding War, or they've been locked away in Azkaban. Those that are free have been re-grouping and placing themselves in positions of power inside the Ministry of Magic. The Death Eaters have…"

Jon interrupted. "The who now?"

"Voldemort's followers are called Death Eaters."

"Ah. Well, that's… Lovely. Not."

Dumbledore smiled. "No, indeed. Regardless, they have been creating some trouble, most notably at the Quidditch World Cup, where they cast the signal of the Dark Lord in the sky."

"I'm guessing panic ensued?"

"Oh yes. But it was put to rest quickly, and no one was harmed permanently." Dumbledore paused. "I believe the Ministry is conspiring against myself and Mr. Potter. They're denying everything Harry has claimed, even going so far as to smear him in the press."

"Well, most journalism nowadays is pretty yellow. A good indication of the truth is often the opposite of what the press prints."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I would agree with you on that, especially if your news comes from the _Daily Prophet._ Now, the Ministry has also restricted my authority, which is why there was a bit of cloak-and-dagger work to get you over here. If the Ministry knew what your war record was, there's no way they'd have let you in."

"Headmaster Webster said the same thing."

"He was quite right. Now, I have to ask. I've seen your record. I know what you've done. What you've gone through. I must ask, are you sure you want to help? This is going to turn into another war. You don't deserve that, not again."

Jon smirked. "No one deserves it, Headmaster. It just happens." Jon got up and walked to the window overlooking Diagon Alley. "I remember when the war first started, I wanted so bad to fight and stop it quickly. I was only eleven. There wasn't anything I could do. I… Lost my parents pretty quick in the war. The Restorative Wizarding Army considered them traitors. We're a pureblood family, but my parents raised me not to care about that. As the war dragged on, and more people died, I wished that I'd had a chance to stop it before it got as bad as it finally did."

Jon turned to look at Dumbledore. "I lost a lot of friends. Because of bigotry in a nation that was supposedly beyond these petty things." Jon looked down. "When the war came to an end, I settled back into Ilvermorny like I was supposed to. But I hated this past summer. As strange as this may sound… I've missed the war. When I was fighting, I felt like I was making a change. When they asked me to just go back to school, it kinda felt… It kinda felt like I'd lost that power. The power to fight for good."

Jon sat back down. "I'd like to not fight again, sure. But there's trouble coming. And this Harry Potter… He sounds like he could use the help I can give. The help of a soldier." Jon smirked. "The help of a warrior poet. And I want to help him if I can."

"But you don't know him."

"True. But if Voldemort succeeds, and kills Harry, what then? Is he just going to stop? Take over England and say, 'Eh. I'm done.' I doubt it. I wouldn't if I were evil. I'd want more." Jon leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "This may be overly patriotic, but my country just got done tearing itself apart over this same reason. If Voldemort wins here, America won't be able to fight him off. We're too weak from our own war. That means my home is in danger, and the friends I left, they're in danger too. So yes, Headmaster. I'll help the Boy Who Lived. Even if it's the last thing I do."

Dumbledore stared at Jonathan. "My dear boy. You are one of the most extraordinary wizards I have ever met. The rest, I am happy to say, you will meet tomorrow." He smiled. "You and Harry are going to be excellent friends, I can promise you that. Now, there are a couple more details you should know. Did you headmaster mention Professor Snape?"

"Yes."

"Professor Snape is not very fond of Harry. He can, honestly, be very unfair towards Harry. They do not get along. When you meet him in person, you must not let on that you know of him, and you must not attempt to have friendly contact with him."

Jon was puzzled. "If he doesn't like Harry, why did he help get me over here?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, I cannot tell you why. I must simply ask you to trust me, and do as I say in this matter."

Jon nodded. "Alright. Don't like Snape. Got it."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Your headmaster also mentioned that you're not very fond of bullies. Your record shows you've fought with several witches and wizards in your age group that were bullying other students."

Jon turned pink. "One or two, yeah."

Dumbledore grinned. "I must warn you, there are several cruel students in Hogwarts. And most of them are from pureblood families. I'm sure you can imagine why they bully people."

Jon clenched his right fist. "Yes."

"Please try not to take discipline for these actions into your own hands. Inform the head of your house as to what happened, and they will do what is necessary."

"I'll do my best."

"I know. Also, speaking of houses, we'll need to have you sorted. When you arrive at the school on the _Hogwarts Express,_ try to stay with Harry. When you enter the great hall for the start-of-term feast, I'll call you forward and we'll sort you. I know you have a certain distaste for being the center of attention, but unfortunately, you will be for a few moments. You are, after all, making history."

Jon blanched. "Uh. Okay."

"Very good. Now, you know where the train leaves from?"

Jon nodded. "Yes. King's Cross, platform nine and three-quarters."

"Yes. The train leaves exactly at eleven in the morning." Dumbledore stood up. "Well, Jonathan. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at school. Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into his robes and pulled out three pictures. One was of Harry Potter, the other was of a bushy haired brunette girl and a red-headed freckle-faced boy. "You have probably already seen Harry's picture, but the other two are his closest friends. The girl is Miss Hermione Granger, and the redhead is Mr. Ronald Weasley. Now, Hermione and Ronald are prefects this year in Gryffindor house, so you should be able to get to Harry without too much interference tomorrow."

Jon took the pictures. "Got it. I'll be ready."

"Of that, Mr. Lionheart, I have no doubt." Dumbledore extended his hand. "Thank you, Jonathan. Your doing this makes our future look much brighter."

Jon shook his hand. "Well, I'm not sure about that. But you're welcome. I'm glad to help."

Dumbledore smiled, then stepped into the middle of the room and with a _crack_ , he apparated out. Jon looked at Lance and sighed. "So. Dinner?"

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

 _A ten thousand plus word chapter. I am so sorry. Is now a bad time to tell you Tolstoy is a personal hero?_

 _Well, that's kind of a lie. I'm not sorry. I wanted to fit all this into one chapter. Ugh._

 _But now, that good stuff begins._

 _Please leave a review, and thanks to those that have followed and favorited the story, that means a lot. It's good to know folks like it._

 _Again, if I've really messed something up, please let me know. I know that I'm kinda making a mess with canon, but I'd like to be accurate. And if my British-isms are screwy, let me know._

 _Next chapter should be up in a week and will start with Jon meeting Harry. From there, we'll parallel the books fairly close._


	5. The Gang's All Here

_I know some folks don't like reviews and replies to reviews posted with a new chapter, but I wanted to share some thoughts and show that I value what ya'll have to say._

 _ginger sass – Hey thanks! I'm glad you like the story. Keep reading, good stuff is coming._

 _OmnipotentOminousmagicion - Hey, thanks for the review! You're right about the Constitution. My bad. What stinks is I researched that and still screwed it up. We'll blame it on the fact I'm American and our pride can sometimes smother facts... 'Murica._

 _So, on MACUSA. I definitely don't want to paint it out as a perfect government, because it couldn't be. And there will be little glimpses of that in the future, mostly through newspaper articles and the like. I think that this civil war will have either exposed or created some serious faults in the government, and I'll try to sneak them into the story in places. (It might even create some interesting arguments between Jon and Hermione.)_

 _Now, about Jonathan. I'm not going to say he's stronger than Harry, but he is more clever. At least right now, which makes sense having fought in a war. Sure, he's a bit stronger physically, but magically Harry's got him beat. If it helps, you can think of Jonathan as a younger, faster, fitter Mad-Eye. He pays attention, is always on guard, and won't be afraid to jump into a fight at any time. If Jon and Harry were to duel (which they might, as friends of course) it could be close, but if Jon wins it will be Jon's experience winning over Harry's strength. And a day will come when Harry will be able to walk all over Jonathan if he really wanted to. In this story, too, not in some far-off future that will only be hinted at._

 _Will Jon teach Harry? Maybe, a bit. Definitely later on down the line. Remember, he needs to keep his skills secret. For now, he's mostly going to try and be something Harry didn't have in the books; a friend that understands the pressure, loss, and strain of war. While Harry had Hermione and Ron in the books, he didn't have anyone that had a concept of loss in war. Jon lost his parents to a civil war, Harry lost his to Voldemort. Harry watched Cedric die in the Triwizard and is haunted by it, but it didn't really seem like Ron or Hermione could grasp the pain Harry felt. Jon can understand that pain, and be the friend that stands at his back in constant support, no matter what comes, or how emotional Harry gets. That's just who Jon is; loyal to the end. This is why Dumbledore and Snape have brought him to Hogwarts, and the two boys will probably end up close, like brothers._

 _Jon's presence will also change some aspects of the story as it goes along, but I don't want to spoil anything, so that's where I'll stop._

 _Alright. So now, we get to the really good stuff. Jon meets Harry and the gang. This could wind up being a short chapter, but I hope not._

 _Oh, and some CYA. I do not own Harry Potter or any characters associated with it. I'm simply playing puppeteer here._

o - o - o - o - o - o - o

 _When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen._

 _Ernest Hemingway_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

Jon knelt in a corner way off to the side of Platform nine and three-quarters, pretending to be looking through his trunk. It was ten fifty in the morning, and Jon had yet to see anyone who looked like Harry Potter al morning. He was getting a bit nervous that he may have blown his best first shot to meet Harry.

That was when he noticed something a bit unusual. A large bearlike black dog was walking on the platform with two women; one, a short, plump and kind looking woman with fiery red hair, the other older with grey hair and a strange looking purple hat. In between them was a boy that looked nothing like either of them. Raven hair in all directions, round glasses, and a scar on his forehead. "Gotcha."

With so many more people than he was expecting around Harry right now, Jon stayed tucked into his corner, using the crowds for extra cover. He needed to be careful; if he couldn't catch Harry on the platform, then he'd need to know which train car to get into. And what made things tougher was he was going to have to do it under the watchful eyes of people protecting Harry. He wasn't stupid; Rangers used similar tactics to protect VIP's. And there were other problems; where were Ron and Hermione, and what was the story with the black dog that stuck so close to Harry it almost seemed like a worried parent? Jon looked at Lance. "Ten bucks says that's an animagus, buddy."

Another person started walking towards Harry and the women, making Jon suck a breath. A porters cap sat on top a large grizzled man with a badly mangled face and a serious limp. There were two things caught Jon's attention, the brown trench coat and the man's eyes. One eye was normal looking, small and dark. The other was much larger and a shade of blue Jon couldn't describe. It moved completely independently from the other eye, constantly scanning the platform as if it were looking for threats.

Jon had met some Rangers that had traveled around the world before the war, and he'd heard stories of a Ministry Auror that was so aggressive and fearless that he gave the Ranger's more respect for British Aurors, despite their "retrieve alive" orders. Jon didn't dare whisper the man's name, but he definitely knew it: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. Jon swallowed, knowing that his job just became a lot harder if the legendary Mad-Eye was working to protect Harry Potter.

Another group of people appeared on the platform. Jon recognized two of them: Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The other person, a tall, slightly heavyset man, Jon didn't recognize but thought he looked a bit like Ron Weasley. Jon assumed the first woman he saw and this man were Ron Weasley's parents. Shortly thereafter, another group of people walked up around Harry. Jon didn't recognize any of them, but two of them looked a bit like Ron Weasley, except they were twins.

Jon watched as the group got onto their train car. Jon stood and made for the front entrance so he could try to cut them off, but he froze. Mad-Eye was staring right at him. Jon tensed up. ' _Well, it's all over now.'_

But Moody only grunted, offering a small smirk while looking away. Jon dashed across the platform just as a warning whistle sounded across the platform. Laden with his backpack, re-shrunken trunk and Lance's cage, navigating the tight hallway on the right side of the train car wasn't easy. The train lurched forwards and several other students nearly lost their footing. He came to a corner and briefly saw Harry and several of the other teens talking about how someone named Sirius didn't shouldn't have come. ' _Sirius… Sirius Black! Harry's godfather! But I didn't see… Ahh, the black dog. It was an animagus!'_ He looked down at Lance. "Not sure how you'll pay me, but you owe me ten bucks, pal." Jon whispered.

Jon leaned back against the cabin wall, watching the group talk through the window reflection, hoping no one was smart enough to see him in the window. Jon was wracking his brain trying to figure out how he was going to get with Harry. He looked around the tight train hallway, an idea suddenly coming to his mind. It was a bit cliché, but it was all Jon could think of. He looked at Lance. "Hang on tight. This could hurt." Lance glared at him, seeming to understand what Jon had planned.

Harry and a girl started walking towards the hall corridor Jon was standing in. He waited until the last moment and then walked around the blind corner, crashing into Harry and knocking him into the red-haired girl. All three found themselves in a heap on the floor. Jon recovered quickly and offered his hands to the other two teens. "Oh shi… I'm sorry, you two! I wasn't paying any attention. Are you alright?"

The girl glared at him, clambering up on her own power, but Harry took his hand and pulled himself up. "It's alright, I think." He looked at his owl, who was glaring at Jon with enormous eyes but seemed unhurt.

"Well, still," Jon said. "I'm sorry. I shoulda' been paying more attention. I just can't figure out where to sit."

"Oh. Well, you just sit with friends, or find a space, really." Harry looked at Jon with a puzzled look on his face. "Umm, if you don't mind, you… Are you American?"

Jon nodded sheepishly. "That obvious? My name's Jonathan. Jonathan Lionheart. Friends just call me Jon."

Harry nodded. "Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you." They shook hands. Harry looked at the girl. "This is Ginny Weasley. She's a friend of mine."

Jon smiled and nodded. "Pleased to meetcha."

Ginny glared but nodded back. "Good to meet you."

Harry looked at Jon. "Well, if you're from America, what are you doing here?"

"Oh. Uhh. Well, the only family I have left is here in England. My headmaster at Ilvermorny thought I should be with them, so he had me sent here."

"Only family left?" Ginny asked.

Jon looked down. "We… Uh, meaning America. We've been in a civil war for the last few years." Jon swallowed. "I lost my family. An aunt and uncle in Manchester are all I have left, so…"

Harry looked at Jon sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Jon waved him away, picking his stuff off the floor. "It's alright. It's long past, I guess. And my family here seems pretty great, so, future looks hopeful."

"Well, that's good." Harry looked at Lance. "You have an eagle, instead of an owl?"

Jon chuckled. "Oh, yeah. I saved his life when he was little, and he's refused to leave my side. His name is Lance." Jon looked at Harry's owl. "That's a beautiful snowy owl. Though I think she's still a little angry with me."

Harry looked down at his owl who had stopped glaring at Jon after he said she was beautiful. "Thanks. Her name's Hedwig."

Jon smiled. "Well, I'm sorry for knocking you over, Hedwig."

Hedwig hooted softly, seeming to accept the apology.

"Well, we should probably find a compartment somewhere." Ginny said.

Harry nodded. "Right." He looked at Jon. "Why don't you come with us?"

Jon nodded, smiling. "Alright, thanks!" ' _Well, this is going well.'_

The three teens walked the corridor but found no room in that car, so they moved to the next one. About halfway down they ran into another teen. He was a bit shorter than Harry, round-faced with blonde hair. He was sweaty from carrying all of his luggage. Harry nodded to him. "Hello, Neville."

The boy, Neville, seemed startled to see him. "Oh. Um. Hi Harry. Still looking for a compartment?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Neville looked sheepish. "Well, there are no more in this train. All full."

Ginny squeezed past Harry and Neville to look for herself. Harry looked at Jon. "Jon, this is Neville Longbottom. Neville, this is Jonathan Lionheart. He's new here. From America."

Jon nodded at Neville. "Howdy."

Neville seemed to squirm even more under Jon's gaze as if he were intimidated. "Well… Nice to meet you…" He mumbled.

Ginny walked back to the boys. "Neville, there's a compartment back here with plenty of space."

"Well… Loony…"

Ginny laughed. "Luna's fine. Come on, let's see if she minds."

Ginny turned toward the cabin, but between Jon's unintentional intimidation and the thought of sitting with this "Loony" person, he looked at Harry apologetically. "I think there's… other spaces…" He looked at Jon, seemed to shrink some more, then trundled between Jon and Harry heading for the end of the train.

Jon looked at Harry. "Is… Howdy an insult over here?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Neville's very shy, though. Especially around new people. And you are a little…"

Jon looked at Harry. "Smelly?"

Harry chuckled. "No. But you are a little… Intimidating, I guess." Harry's face fell suddenly. "Or at least, you remind me of someone who used intimidated me."

Jon caught the use of "used to," and didn't pry. "Sorry. I'll try to be less… Well, less."

"Are you two coming or not?" Ginny called from the compartment with this "Loony" person.

Harry went for the compartment first and Jon followed. As Harry was putting his suitcases and owl on the cargo rack, Jon caught his first glance at "Loony."

It was a small girl with dirty blonde hair. Most of her face was covered with a magazine that was oddly upside down, but Jon could see that she had fair eyebrows with very large, bright blue eyes that seemed to stick out a bit. Her wand was tucked into her left ear as if it were a pencil, and she had a necklace made of metal bottle caps. Jon couldn't help but smirk. ' _I have a feeling she'd get along fairly well with Celeste.'_

Harry sat down on the middle of the bench across from "Loony," so Jon squeezed in and took the window seat, angling a bit so he could always see out the door. Ginny was sitting across from him. "Harry, Jon, this is Luna Lovegood."

The magazine lowered a bit and Jon could see the rest of the girls face. She had very pale skin, a fair nose, and small mouth. She had a look on her face that was almost as if she was constantly daydreaming. Her eyes rested on Harry and he started to squirm a bit. "You're Harry Potter." It was a statement, not a question, and she said it in a voice that was nearly ethereal.

Harry swallowed. "Yeah. I know."

Jon looked at Harry with a smirk when Luna set her eyes onto him. "I don't you, though."

Jon looked her in the eyes to answer, but his brain seemed to lose track of what his name actually was. Her gaze was kind, but it felt like it went right to your core, and Jon half expected her to start speaking in his head. He coughed quickly. "Um, yeah. I'm a new Jon. Oh, uhh, no, I'm…" He paused, closing his eyes with an embarrassed look on his face while Ginny giggled and Harry grinned. "Aha. I'm Jonathan. Jonathan Lionheart. I'm new."

Luna kept staring. "You're from America. Your voice is very flat."

"Umm. Yeah, I guess so."

Ginny giggled again. "Luna is a fourth year like me, but she's in Ravenclaw house."

Luna smiled softly. " _Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure."_

Jon looked at Harry with a puzzled look on his face. "It's the Ravenclaw motto." Harry explained.

"Ah. Got it." Luna pulled the magazine back over her face. Jon pointed between Harry and Ginny. "So, if Luna's in Ravenclaw, what houses are you in?"

"We're both in Gryffindor," Harry said. "Do you have houses in Ilvermorny?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. Um, Thunderbird, Wampus, Horned Serpent and Pukwudgie."

Ginny giggled. "Pukwudgie?"

"Yeah. They're umm, native to America. About maybe, three feet tall. Grey skinned. Pointy ears. Stout builds. Don't much care for humans, normally. Vicious in a fight."

"My father's mentioned them." The ethereal voice spoke from behind the magazine. "He says they transform into boulders and roll onto people for fun."

Jon blinked. "Well, I never saw one do that. But they can transform into porcupines or cougars, depending on where they're from."

Harry looked at Jon. "Which house did you belong to?"

"Wampus. Umm, I guess you could say it's the bravest of the houses."

"Why's that?"

Jon inhaled before explaining. "Wampus is about bravery. Loyalty. Honor. The Wampus totem favors warriors, those who are brave in spirit. Those who'll see things through. Academically, we're usually the best in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but we're pretty good at potions and healing, too. Before the war, Wampus had the best Quidditch team, and the House Cup usually went between Wampus and Thunderbird."

Ginny leaned forward. "Are they going to sort you, or just match you with the house closest to your old one?"

"They're going to sort me tonight at the feast."

Harry was grinning. "You'll be in Gryffindor, I know it."

Jon looked at Harry. "You think so?"

Harry nodded. "I do."

Jon grinned back. "Well, I've already got friends there. Sounds good to me."

The door to the compartment opened and a pretty girl with shiny black hair opened the door. She looked a little sheepish. "Uhm. Hi, Harry."

Harry went beat red. "Oh! Umm, hi Cho."

Cho looked around the compartment at Ginny, Luna, and Jon. Luna had put her magazine down and was giving Cho that same soul-piercing stare she'd given Jon. Cho squirmed. "Well, I just wanted to say hi." Pause. "Bye." She closed the door and vanished. Harry stared at the door blinking with a dumb look on his face.

Jon looked at Harry. "My bad?" Harry grinned, shaking his head.

"I think she likes you, Harry Potter." Luna said before ducking back under her magazine.

Harry went pink, wiping his face with his hands, sighing. Apparently, Harry liked Cho too. "I wanted to say… Something…" He wiped his face again.

Jon nudged him. "I wouldn't worry too much, Harry. Besides, it could have been worse." Harry looked at him. "You could have been covered in some smelly goo."

Harry chuckled again and looked at Jon appreciatively. "Thanks."

Jon smiled, reaching up to his backpack and freed his fedora from the straps. "No problem. Now, I think I'm gonna catch some shuteye." He pulled the fedora down over his eyes and smiled to himself. ' _Looking good so far.'_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

Sometime later, the door to the compartment opened and a kind lady was asking if anyone wanted any snacks. Jon kept his eyes closed; he wasn't really hungry.

"Should we wake him?" Ginny whispered.

"No. I'll just get some extra. Ron'll want some too whenever he finally shows up."

"That's very kind of you, Harry Potter." The ethereal voice said, a bit muffled. Jon assumed Luna was still behind her magazine.

A few minutes later the door opened again, but this time people came in.

"Oi, I'm starved." The bench Jon was on shifted as a body fell into it. "Thans f'r gein esr fgs." It was a male voice. Jon guessed Ron Weasley.

"Ron!" Another new voice, female and filled with admonishment. Jon guessed this was Hermione Granger. "Don't speak with your mouth full! Honestly."

An audible swallow. "Sorry."

The girl humphed. "Well, there are more prefects than normal this year."

Another wrapper opened up. "Yeah And you're gonna love this, mate." A paused. "Guessh who th' thlytherin prfcts ar?"

"Ron!" Now it was Ginny, and she sounded exasperated.

Jon frowned. _'So, Ron Weasley was born and currently lives in a barn.'_

"Sorry." Again. "Guess who one of the Slytherin prefects is?"

Harry sighed. "Malfoy."

Jon was familiar with the responsibilities of a prefect, and from the way Harry said the name Malfoy, this sounded like bad news. Jon pulled the fedora off his head, looking at Harry. "Who's this Malfoy? Sounds like you don't like him much."

There was a choking sound from Ron as he just realized there was someone in the compartment he didn't know. "Oi! Forget who's Malfoy, mate. Who are you!?"

Hermione looked at Ron aghast. "Ron! That's not… Ugggh. Nevermind."

Jon sat up in his seat. "Jon. Jon Lionheart." He extended his hand to Ron. "You're Ron…"

"Weasley. Ronald Weasley."

Hermione held out her hand. "Hermione Granger." Jon shook it.

"Pleased to meetcha."

Ron looked at him puzzled. "You're a yank?"

Hermione and Ginny this time. "RON!"

Jon chuckled. "Uhh, yeah. Guilty as charged."

Hermione leaned forward, glaring at Ron. "What are you doing here? We've never had an American student before."

"Well, I'm an orphan. There's been a civil war back in the States for the last four years, and the only family I have left is here in England. So here I am."

Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Ron looked embarrassed. "Yeah. Sorry mate."

Jon nodded. "It's alright, really." Jon looked at Harry. "So who is this Malfoy guy? I assume he's a guy."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Draco Malfoy. He's, umm…"

"A giant git is what he is. He's in Slytherin, and think's he's above everyone because he's a pureblood and his dad's got pull in the Ministry."

Jon's right hand clenched. "Pureblood?"

Ron looked at him. "Yeah. Thinks they're better than muggle-born wizards."

Jon shook his head. "Um, muggle?"

Hermione giggled. "Means non-magical human."

"Ah. Gotcha." Jon looked at Harry. "I'm guessing you and Draco don't get along very well."

Harry shook his head. "Not at all."

"He's a bully," Ginny said. "He rides Harry like crazy because Harry's better than him. Not to mention Harry's famous."

Jon looked at Ginny, raising his eyebrows. "Famous?" He looked at Harry. "What makes you famous?"

Ron looked at Jon stupidly. "You're daft, right?"

Hermione hit Ron over the shoulder and Ron winced. Jon shrugged. "Sorry, but I'd never heard of Harry Potter before I crashed into him a few hours ago."

Hermione glared at Ron who sank away from her. "Harry is famous for surviving the _Avada Kedavra_ curse when he was a baby. He's known as the Boy Who Lived."

"It's a real pain most of the time." Harry mumbled.

"Who'd try to kill a baby?" Jon asked.

Harry looked at him. "His name was Vol…"

"Don't say it, Harry!" Ron yelled.

Jon was puzzled. "Why can't he say his name?"

"Because people are afraid of it," Harry continued. He leaned in so only Jon could hear him. "Voldemort. His name is Voldemort."

Jon leaned back. "So this… Bad guy. He wanted you dead?" Harry nodded. "Why?"

Harry shrugged. "Erm, not really sure." He looked at Ron and Hermione. "Who are the other prefects?"

"Pansy Parkinson is the female Slytherin prefect," Hermione grumbled. "Not sure how she pulled that off…"

"Macmillan and Abbot for Hufflepuff and Goldstein and Patil for Revenclaw." Ron said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Luna lower her magazine. She was looking at Ron. "I remember you going to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil."

Ron squirmed, making Jon and Harry grin. "Yeah. So?"

Luna looked thoughtful. "She didn't have a very good time. She thought you treated her badly, since you wouldn't dance with her." She paused. "I wouldn't have minded though. I don't really like to dance." She sank back beneath the magazine like a submarine sliding under waves.

Jon grinned looking at the magazine. ' _I would love to get her and Celeste in a room together.'_ Ron looked stunned, looking around the room for an explanation while Ginny giggled at his facial expression.

"Anyway," Hermione broke the sudden silence. "We may need to leave every now and then. We're supposed to monitor the corridors."

Ron sat up excitedly. "The best part, though, is that now we can hand out punishments if someone is misbehaving!" He rubbed his hands together. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't gonna know what's hit them…"

Hermione looked appalled. "Ron! You can't just hand out punishments on a whim; that's abusing your position!"

Ron glared. "Oh, and Malfoy's just gonna be a saint about it, isn't he?"

Jon coughed gently. "I wouldn't sink to his level, if I were you."

Ron shot Jonathan a look. "I hadn't planned to. Just gonna catch Crabbe and Goyle before Malfoy can get Harry for anything."

Hermione rubbed her forehead, shaking her head.

Ron sat back, still thinking about how he'd punish these two students. "I'd have Goyle do lines. He hates writing." He mimed someone writing. "I, must, not, look, like, a, baboon's, backside!"

Jon frowned at the crack, thinking Ron still didn't get what his position meant. Everyone else thought it was funny, but no one laughed harder than Luna. She laughed so loud and hard that the animals in the compartment got upset. She kept laughing so hard that she eventually fell out of her seat, her magazine falling to the floor in front of her. "That was funny!"

Ron looked at her like she had seven heads. "You taking the mickey?"

Jon leaned into Harry while still watching Luna. "Taking the what now?"

Harry choked out a laugh and then told Jon what the phrase meant. Jon frowned immediately, glaring at Ron. _'That was uncalled for.'_

Harry had taken to looking at Luna's magazine with keen interest. "Hey Luna, can I borrow your magazine for a moment?"

Luna shook her head in agreement, still laughing but trying to get herself back in her seat. Jon reached over and lifted her by her arm, helping her still shaking form slide into the seat. "Thank you," laugh, "Jonathan."

Jon grinned at her before trying to figure out what caught Harry's attention. He saw a headline for Sirius Black, but Harry flipped the page too quickly for Jon to see more. Jon thought about Harry's godfather for a second. ' _'Tobias and General Greylock mentioned that Black was an escaped prisoner from Azkaban. But if that really was him on the platform as that dog, then he doesn't seem dangerous to Harry. Not if Mad-Eye knew he was there and did nothing. That's a puzzle I'll have to keep working on.'_

Harry closed the magazine, frowning. "Nothing good, huh?" Jon asked.

Hermione humphed. "Not unexpected. I don't know what kind of news you have in America, but over here, _The Quibbler_ is a joke."

Luna's face changed in an instant; from looking like she was always dreaming to anger, as if someone had insulted her family. "Excuse me. My father is _The Quibller's_ editor."

Jon winced, seeing Hermione shrink back completely ashamed. Luna leaned over and yanked the magazine out of Harry's hands, turned it upside down and disappeared behind it again.

The tension in the room was palpable when the door to the compartment opened, revealing a smirking pale blonde boy with his hair slicked back over his head, with two large boys not far behind. He made Jon instantly uneasy, to the point Jon rested his hand on his wand.

Harry glared at him. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Malfoy chuckled. "Easy, Potter. Mouth off to me and I'll give you a detention." He spoke with an air of snobbery, and Jon could tell what Ron meant; he thought he was better than everyone else. "See, _I_ made prefect this year. Which means _I_ have the power to discipline you when _you_ step out of line."

Jon wanted to say something, but he promised Dumbledore he'd behave. And hexing this brat into Ireland didn't exactly count as behaving. Fortunately, Harry responded. "That's true, Malfoy, but unlike you, I'm not a git. So leave us alone."

Jon grinned while Hermione, Ron and Ginny giggled.

Malfoy fumed. "What's it like being second best to Weasel here, Potter?"

"Shove off!" Ron called.

Malfoy grinned. "Ah. Struck a nerve, eh? Good." He glared at Potter. "Watch yourself, Potter. I'm gonna be _dogging_ every step you take this year."

Jon had enough. He stood up, shoulders straight, taking advantage of what turned out to be a couple inches on Malfoy and the fact his fedora made him look even taller. He put the most intimidating look he could muster on his face, his hand still sat on his wand. "You wanna leave this cabin."

Malfoy's eyes widened as he took Jonathan in, and he backed out of the doorway, shooting off down the hall with his two thugs in tow. Jon stepped half into the hallway watching Malfoy retreat. He looked back in the cabin, seeing Harry and Hermione shared worried glances.

Ron looked up at him, suddenly seeming intimidated. "Bloody hell, mate."

Jon closed the door and sat back down, looking apologetically at everyone. "Sorry. Not a fan of bullies."

Ron was still eyeing him warily, grabbing a chocolate frog from Harry and cramming it into his mouth. Jon looked at Harry who looked worried about something.

"Hey. You alright?"

Harry looked at him and nodded. "Yeah. Just... thinking about something." Harry paused. "You might want to watch yourself around Draco. He only scares easily once or twice. And now that he's a prefect, he can really make your life miserable."

Jon nodded. "I'll do my best."

Harry nodded, then drifted back into his own thoughts. Looking around the room he noticed everyone was occupied, so Jon sat back in his seat and pulled the fedora back down over his eyes.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

A bump to his shoulder jolted Jon awake. It was Harry. "You need to change. We're getting close."

Jon looked outside and saw it was dark. "Oh. Thanks, man."

After a quick change, Jon grabbed all his stuff, gently lifting Lance under his left arm. Everyone else was ready to go and they started shuffling down the corridor of the train. Jon smiled as the smell of pine wafted over them in the cool air coming into the train.

A woman was outside calling for first year student to line up, and Harry started looking around as if something was wrong. "Forget somethin', Harry?"

"What? Oh, no I'm just looking for…" He turned to Ginny. "Where's Hagrid?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but we need to keep moving Harry."

As they got onto the platform, the mass of people forced them to be separated, but Jon kept his eyes on the back of Harry's head and tracked him outside of the small station. He stood next to Harry looking as they looked at a long line of carriages being pulled by some horse-like creatures. "Huh. That's a sight. So, umm. Who's Hagrid?"

"Oh, he's our Care of Magical Creatures professor. Well, he should be, anyway, but he's not here." Harry looked back to staring at the coaches bewilderedly.

"Oi, where's Pig!?" Ron called from behind them.

Harry shook his head. "Luna's got him somewhere. Hey, where do you…"

"Where's Hagrid?" Ron cut him off. "No idea, but I hope he's alright."

Jon caught sight of Draco Malfoy shoving his way through some much younger students to get to a carriage, his posse following behind him. Jon couldn't help but growl.

Harry saw what he was looking at. "Yeah. It's always Malfoy first." Harry looked back at Jon. "You're really gonna have a tough time with him, aren't you?"

Jon grit his teeth. "Probably."

Hermione came up next. "I can't believe Malfoy! Bullying on a first year, scared her completely to death! One day with that badge and he's already three times worse than he ever was." She looked around. "What'd you do with Crookshanks?"

Ginny and Luna popped out of the crowd, Ginny holding an orange puffball of a cat, and Luna with an owl in a cage. "He's here, Hermione."

Luna handed Ron his cage. "Here's your owl, Ron. He's very sweet."

"Yeah. Thanks."

The group started walking towards the carriages when Harry stopped and asked. "What do you suppose those are, anyhow?"

Ron looked at him. "They're carriages, Harry."

"No, I know that. I mean the horse things pulling the carriages."

Ron looked at Harry like he was crazy. "There's nothing pulling the carriages, Harry. They're _magic._ "

"No," Harry said, walking up to the Thestral pulling the carriage that Hermione and Ginny were already in. "This!? What is this?"

Ron shook his head, eyeing Harry warily. "There's nothin' there, mate. You alright?"

"I…" Harry sighed. "Yeah."

Ron climbed into the carriage and Jon leaned towards Harry. "I can see 'em."

Harry looked at him quickly. "You can!?"

"Yep."

Harry looked at Jon almost skeptically when this ethereal voice spoke up. "Don't worry, Harry. You're not going mad. I can see them too."

"Really?"

She smiled softly. "Oh yes. You're both just as sane as I am."

She climbed into the carriage and Jon looked at Harry. "See? I'm feeling better."

Harry chuckled before the two boys climbed inside the carriage.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

 _I'm gonna post this as maybe a beta chapter. It took me a few revisions to get this to where I liked it and there's still a couple places that… Just seem… Soft. I guess._

 _So this chapter might be updated and changed at random later down the road._

 _I tried to make it feel less like a carbon copy and more like an AU version of what Jon's impact might be._

 _Well, let me know what you think._


	6. The Hat Sings, apparently

_Hmm. It's a tricky balance, you know? Trying to figure out how to craft a new story in the old story without doing a crappy job. I'm still mildly contemplating a re-tool of the last chapter, but I also like to push forward, so here is the next chapter._

 _There will be a lot more original dialogue here. It's a bit easier as there are several places that it just fits in nicely. Unfortunately, we're going to run fairly close to parallel for a lot of the fifth year. I've got some serious changes planned, though. Sadly, they all come in later on down the road._

 _Stick around and I'll make this interesting._

 _CYA: I own nothing._

 _o – o - o – o – o – o – o - o_

" _His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom."_

 _Aragorn_

O – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

For Jon, the carriage ride to Hogwarts was a somewhat illuminating affair. Harry was still very concerned about the absence of this teacher named Hagrid, and Ron and Ginny were nearly as concerned as he was.

"What is that Grubbly-Plank woman doing here?" Ginny asked. "Do you think Hagrid's left?"

"It won't be much of a loss if he has." Luna said. "I don't think he's a very good teacher."

Harry, Ron and Ginny all responded at the same time.

"Yes he is!"

"He's a great teacher!"

"He's the best!"

Hermione remained suspiciously quiet.

Luna seemed unfazed by the outburst. "Well, most of Ravenclaw thinks he's a bit of a joke."

Harry, Ron and Ginny glared at Luna, who simply looked out the window as if nothing was wrong. Hermione had a slightly guilty look on her face. Jon thought about asking some questions about Hagrid, but he decided against it and looked out the window of the carriage just as Hogwarts was coming into view.

It was old, that much Jon could tell. The styling was definitely medieval, a hodgepodge of English and Germanic roots. Jon didn't think it was a beautiful as Ilvermorny, but it was definitely more historic. The thought of the history the building contained excited him, and made him a little worried. This was new ground to him, and that put him at a disadvantage. He'd need to learn a lot about this school quickly.

The carriages rolled to a stop in front of stone stairs that led to massive oak doors. Jon got out of the carriage first, holding the door open for everyone else. Quiet "thank you's" came from Hermione and Ginny who made it out on their own power. Ron tumbled out at near breakneck speed, saying something about needing to eat. Luna was smaller than everyone else, so Jon held his hand out to help her. She took it and stepped out, giving Jon a look and a smile that he couldn't decipher, but set his heart into a quick tempo.

Harry got out last, looking up and down the line of carriages with a look of concentration on his face. "You alright, Harry?" Jon asked.

Harry turned and looked at him. "Oh, yes. Just… Thinking."

A sudden crack got the attention of both boys, and standing next to Jonathan was a small, thin, grey-skinned elf with enormous eyes. He was wearing what looked like a cut to his size burlap sack, and he seemed very happy to see Harry. "Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry saw him and smiled. "Dobby! Um, what are you doing out here?"

"Dobby's come to fetch Jonathan Lionheart. Dobby is to bring him to Dumbledore. Does Harry Potter know where Jonathan Lionheart is?"

Harry pointed at Jon. "You found him already."

Jon knelt down to Dobby's height, holding his right hand towards Dobby. "Howdy. I'm Jonathan. Pleased to meetcha."

Dobby looked at the hand warily. "Sir?"

Jon grinned. "It's a greeting. It's called a handshake. When two people meet, it's how they show mutual respect."

Dobby's eyes widened. "Mutual… respect sir?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. One… Equal to another. You take my hand and we shake." Jon pushed his hand a little farther. "Go ahead."

Dobby took Jon' offered hand, grinning. "Dobby is pleased to meet Jonathan. Dobby likes Jonathan very much. Dobby will take you to see Headmaster Dumbledore now."

Jon nodded. "Alright." He looked up at Harry. "I'll catch you later."

Suddenly the world started spinning, and with a 'crack,' Jonathan disappeared.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon suddenly found himself standing, a bit unsteadily, in an empty hallway somewhere in the castle. He shook his head trying to steady himself when he noticed Dumbledore standing in front of him, a small smile on his face. "Are you alright, Jonathan?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. Just wasn't prepared for that jump."

Dumbledore nodded, then looked at Dobby. "Thank you for bringing Jonathan to me so quickly, Dobby."

Dobby bowed. "Dobby is happy to be of service, sir." With a 'crack' Dobby was gone.

Dumbledore turned his attention to Jonathan. "I apologize for the slight change of plans, Jonathan. I trust you met with Harry?"

Jon nodded. "I did."

"And?"

"Seems to be going well so far. I think he likes me. Ron might be a bit intimidated by me."

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Yes. I heard about your mild confrontation with young Draco."

Jon frowned. "Sorry, sir. He just… Well, he… He's a creep, sir."

"I understand. Mr. Malfoy is quite the opposite of yourself and Harry. But you must remember to keep yourself in check. We are under… Very close scrutiny from the Ministry this year. You must work in secret as much as possible."

Jon nodded. "So… No dueling Malfoy, then?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No."

"Alright. I'll do what I can. Try to… Steer clear of Malfoy."

"Very good." Dumbledore looked back down the hallway towards the sound of a large crowd. "The feast is about to begin. You need to go to the great hall. You'll find the first years waiting to be sorted with Professor McGonagall. Down this hall and to the left, she's expecting you. Oh, and you may relax. There will only be a small speech about your historic enrollment to our school."

Jon blanched, mumbling. "I'd prefer no speech…"

Dumbledore laughed. "I'll keep it as short as I can." He turned and made for his entrance to the great hall.

Jon turned down the hallway and headed to where Dumbledore told him to go. He rounded a corner and saw a large crowd of younger children standing around a very strict looking witch. Her black robes and pointy hat made her look like the Wicked Witch of the West, but Jon wasn't about to make that observation out loud. He walked up to her as she was trying to get some order with the younger students.

"Professor McGonagall?" He asked, nearly standing at a salute, but stopping himself short, looking like he was giving a half-wave.

Professor McGonagall looked at him puzzled. "Can I help you, or are you just going to stand there giving me that goofy wave?"

Jon pinked, then put his hand back down. "Sorry. I'm Jonathan Lionheart. Headmaster Dumbledore told me to meet you here."

Realization crossed her face. "Of course, Mr. Lionheart. If you would, please stand at the front with me and we'll have you sorted first." She turned to the group. "Please stand in a line quietly. We'll be entering the great hall in moments." She stepped away towards a stool that had another pointed hat resting on it.

Jon stood at the front of the group feeling more than a little awkward. Standing easily two feet above most of the kids behind him, he was painfully aware of how much he stood out. He stopped worrying about himself though when he heard a small voice on the verge of hyperventilating.

He turned and saw a young boy looking around, breathing rapidly. He had long brown hair that was almost in a bowl cut, and green eyes that carried a sense of terror and uncertainty. Jon knelt down in front of him, and the boy froze, staring at Jon as if Jon was going to eat him alive. "Easy there. You're okay; you don't need to fear me. My name's Jonathan, what's yours?"

The boy swallowed. "E… Euan. Abercrombie."

Jon smiled. "Pleased to meetcha, Euan. You're eleven, right?" The boy nodded. "How long have you known you're a wizard?"

The word wizard made the boy jump, but he answered anyway. "A couple months."

Jon smiled. "Are you excited?"

The boy looked down, as if ashamed, but a small grin took hold. It vanished quickly though. "I guess. I'm just… I don't know anyone, and my family isn't here, and my friends all laughed at me, and…"

Between the boys' rapid breathing and his rapid explanation of how he was feeling, Jon was afraid he'd fall over faint. He placed both hands on the boy's shoulders. "Easy, Euan. Look at me." The boy looked at Jon. "It's alright. M'Kay? This is the start of something amazing for you. I remember when I found out I was a wizard. I had a lot of friends that didn't understand and… When I first went to school, I was a little afraid too. But you're going to be fine. I know it."

"H… How?"

Jon smiled. "Because what you're feeling, the nerves, the shakiness, all of it. It's excitement. There's some fear, yes. But fear is courage holding on a minute longer. And you're not the only one here that's new. I'm new."

The boy looked at him. "But you're older."

Jon laughed. "Yes, but I'm new to the school. I'm the first ever-American student here. So there's a lot of pressure on me to do well. I have to be re-sorted and I have to make new friends." Jon paused. "I tell you what. Let's be friends, you and me."

The boy looked shocked. "Really."

Jon nodded. "Really. Let's be friends."

The boy looked at Jon warily. "We don't know… What houses we'll be in."

"Does that really matter? I was with a group of people from two different houses and they got along just fine. Well, mostly. So let's be friends, Euan." Jon stuck his hand out for the boy to shake. "Deal?"

Euan stared at the hand. The he smiled. "Deal."

"Excellent."

Professor McGonagall came around behind Jon, holding the hat and the stool he saw earlier. "First years and our first transfer. Eyes on me, we're about to go in." Jon stood up and nearly went to attention, but relaxed a bit when McGonagall turned and looked at him. "Thank you for calming him, Mr. Lionheart. I was beginning to worry about him. That'll be ten points to whichever house you are sorted to." There was a twinkle in her eyes as if she already knew which house that would be. Jonathan wondered how much she knew about him.

The doors to the great hall opened and the line of students began marching in. Jon took a quick look around the room. He saw Harry, Hermione and Ron all sitting together. Harry gave a nod that Jon returned. Luna was sitting with a bunch of other students he didn't recognize, the dreamy look firmly in place. Draco Malfoy and his thugs were sitting at the far end of another table, glaring at Jon. _'If looks could kill.'_ Jon smirked back with a look on his face that he hoped said one thing: "Say When."

They reached the end of the great hall, standing right in front of Headmaster Dumbledore and the rest of the professors. Professor McGonagall put the stool down in front of Jonathan and set the hat on top of it. He looked up at Dumbledore with a puzzled look. Dumbledore just smiled.

That was the moment that the hat sitting on the stool opened at a tear and began to sing:

 _In times of old when I was new_

 _And Hogwarts barely started  
The founders of our noble school_

 _Thought never to be parted:_

 _United by a common goal,_

 _The had the selfsame yearning,_

 _To make the world's best magic school_

 _And pass along their learning._

 _"Together we will build and teach!"_

 _The four good friends decided_

 _And never did the dream that they_

 _Might someday be divided,_

 _For were there such friends anywhere_

 _As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

 _Unless it was the second pair_

 _Oh Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

 _So how could it have gone so wrong?_

 _How could such friendships fail?_

 _Why, I was there and so can tell_

 _The whole sad, sorry tail._

 _Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_

 _Whose ancestry is purest."_

 _Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose_

 _Intelligence is surest."_

 _Said Gryffindor "We'll teach all those_

 _With brave deeds to their name."_

 _Said Huffelpuff, 'I'll teach the lot,_

 _And treat them just the same."_

 _These differences caused little strife_

 _When first they came to light,_

 _For each of the four founders had_

 _A House in which they might_

 _Take only those they wanted so,_

 _For Instance, Slytherin_

 _Took only pure-blood wizards_

 _Of great cunning, just like him,_

 _And only those of sharpest mind_

 _Were taught by Ravenclaw_

 _While the bravest and the boldest_

 _Went to daring Gryffindor._

 _Good Huffelpuff, she too the rest,_

 _And taught them all she knew,_

 _Thus the Houses and their founders_

 _Retained friendships firm and true._

 _So Hogwarts worked in Harmony_

 _For several happy years,_

 _But then discord crept among us_

 _Feeding on our faults and fears._

 _The Houses that, like pillars four,_

 _Had once held up our school,_

 _Now turned upon each other and,_

 _Divided, sought to rule._

 _And for a while it seemed the school_

 _Must meet an early end,_

 _What with dueling and with fighting_

 _And the clash of friend on friend_

 _And at last there came a morning_

 _When old Slytherin departed_

 _And though the fighting then died out_

 _He left us quite downhearted._

 _And never since the founders four_

 _Were whittled down to three_

 _Have the Houses been united_

 _As they once were meant to be._

 _And now the Sorting Hat is here_

 _And you all know the score:_

 _I sort you into Houses_

 _Because that is what I'm for,_

 _But this year I'll go further,_

 _Listen closely to my song:_

 _Though condemned I am to split you_

 _Still I worry that it's wrong,_

 _Though I must fulfill my duty_

 _And must quarter every year_

 _Still I wonder whether Sorting_

 _May not bring the end I fear._

 _Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

 _The warning history shows,_

 _For our Hogwarts is in danger_

 _From external, deadly foes_

 _And we must unite inside her_

 _Or we'll crumble from within,_

 _I have told you, I have warned you…_

 _Let the Sorting now begin._

The hat became motionless and Jon found himself staring at the hat with both eyebrows raised. "I. Did. Not. See that coming." He mumbled.

All around the great hall were murmurs and some clapping. Dumbledore stood and the hall went quiet. "This is a historic moment for Hogwarts, and I hope a sign of future co-operation and unification between ourselves and other schools of the wizarding world. Tonight we will induct our first American student into a house. Mr. Jonathan Lionheart comes to us as a fifth-year student, and we are excited to see how he will do and what he may bring to our school." Dumbledore looked at Jon. "There's a lot riding on your shoulders, young man. But every professor here will do our best to help you along. Please." Dumbledore motioned at the hat.

"No pressure," Jonathan mumbled as he stepped forward, placing the hat on his head and sitting on the stool.

"Hmm. You're a strange one…" A voice spoke in his ear. "Oldest I've ever sorted. Sorted before, too. What is there to you? A strong code of honor. Loyalty. And a lot of skill." The hat shuddered. "A past, too. Quite a few scars. Courage in spades. Oddly, not much fear. A lot of passion, too; you'll jump into any situation no matter how dangerous. Well, there's only one place for you. GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table burst into applause and cheers. Jonathan saw Harry, Ron and Hermione wave him over, so he walked down and sat in a spot next to Hermione, across from Harry. Harry looked at him. "Told you." He whispered.

Jon grinned and nodded.

Professor McGonagall called a name. "Abercrombie, Euan."

Jon strained to see the young boy he'd befriended set the hat on his head, seeming to vanish underneath the much too large hat. A moment, and then: "Gryffindor!"

Jon stood, clapping. "Woo!" He looked at Euan and waved. The boy smiled back, still nervous but seeming much happier that he's be in the same house with his friend. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at him puzzled. "I'll explain when this is done."

The rest of the sorting passed by with students going to various houses until Professor McGonagall took the hat and stool away. Dumbledore stood. "To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

Ron looked at Jonathan as he was piling food onto his plate. "So what was with your reaction to the first student?"

Jon placed some sliced turkey on his plate. "I met him just before the sorting. He was kinda terrified about the whole thing. I talked to him, calmed him down. Offered to be his friend. That'll be a bit easier now we're in the same house."

"That was very kind of you, young man." A voice came from behind Jon.

Jon turned to see a ghost hovering bit behind and above them, looking wistfully at the food on the table. Ilvermorny had a few ghosts too, but it was unusual for them to be with the students when they ate. "Thanks. You, umm…"

"Oh, how rude of me! I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Jon was a bit baffled by the name. "Quite a name."

The ghost chuckled at bit. "I am also known as Nearly Headless Nick." The ghost grabbed his head and leaned it to the right, showing he was nearly decapitated. "But you may refer to me as Nick."

Jon nodded. "Well, I'm Jonathan Lionheart. Pleased to meetcha, Nick."

Hermione huffed a bit in impatience. "Nick, what were you saying before the Sorting? About the hat and past warnings?"

Jon nodded. "I was wondering a bit about that myself. Wasn't a very happy song for the moment."

"Ew kan zay hatagan." Ron said, his mouth overflowing with food. Hermione looked disgusted, and Harry just didn't look.

Nick seemed to be jolted from his staring at Ron. "Oh, yes! Yes, the hat has given warnings before. Always at a time it detects a period of great danger for the school. And the message is always the same. Stand together and be strong from within."

"A house divided against itself cannot stand." Jon said. Hermione and Harry looked at him. He shrugged. "President Abraham Lincoln."

Harry looked clueless, but Hermione looked impressed. So did Nick. "A very true saying, young man."

"Ow duz at knw theresdanger iffits ahat?" Ron asked again.

Jonathan looked at Ron. "Were you born in a barn, or do you just live in one?"

Harry stifled a laugh. Hermione snorted. Ron swallowed at glared at Jon. "I said, how can it know when the school is in danger if it's a hat."

Nick shrugged. "I'm not sure. It does live in Dumbledore's office, so no doubt it hears things."

Harry looked thoughtful. "And it wants all the Houses to be friends?" He looked back at the Slytherin table. "Fat chance."

"Easy, Harry," Jon said. "One bad apple does not spoil the whole bunch."

Hermione looked at Jon. "That's not how the saying goes."

Jon shrugged. "Truth, though."

"I must say I agree." Nick said. "Peaceful cooperation, that's the key. We ghosts may belong to different houses, but we maintain friendships. Despite the competiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never consider seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron."

"That's because you're terrified of him." Ron said.

Nick looked offended. Jon looked to Harry for some indication of how to handle the impending argument, and found Harry looking intently at his own food. Jon glanced at Ron and then decided to do the same, eating his food and listening to Ron, Nick and Hermione tussle.

After the rest of the room finished eating, Dumbledore stood up. "Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds – and a few of our older students ought to know by now too."

Jon noticed that Harry, Ron and Hermione all smirked at each other. "Oh, there's a story there." The three chuckled as Dumbledore continued. "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of others things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list not fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Also, we are delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Everyone clapped, but it felt fake. "And there was much rejoicing." Jon quipped. Harry, Hermione and Ron looked at him puzzled. "Monty Python and the Holy Grail? You guys are British, right?"

Harry opened his mouth, but Dumbledore continued. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place…"

There was an annoying sounding " _hem hem,"_ causing Dumbledore to stop and look at a woman who was extremely short, extremely ugly, and was wearing a sweater Jon was convinced was made from the skin of a slayed pink alien Muppet. Dumbledore sat down, giving the woman the floor. "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome." Her voice was just as annoying as Jon suspected it would be, and from the reaction of the students and teachers in the hall to her interruption of Dumbledore, Jon quickly figured out who, and what, she was. _'She's from the Ministry. That's what Dumbledore meant, close scrutiny of the school. They sent in an enforcer.'_

Professor Umbridge continued. "Well, it is so wonderful to be back at Hogwarts, I must say. And to see such happy little faces looking back at me."

Jon felt his eyes go wide before he wiped his face with his hands. "Oh, for cryin' out load. Do we look like we're seven?" Ron snorted, but brought it under control. Harry looked at Jon sympathetically. "Too right."

Umbridge cleared her throat with that annoying " _hem, hem"_ before continuing. "Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"

Jon rolled his eyes. He'd heard enough of these speeches through the war, mostly from the R.W.A. The base message was always the same: things are going to be done our way, and you'd better step in line. Jon tuned her out for the rest of her speech, instead trying to figure out how he was going to avoid getting detention from this professor. He also started hearing the Mission Impossible theme in the back of his head.

He started paying attention again when Dumbledore started clapping. "Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating." Jon noticed Dumbledore was looking at him, the look on his face conveyed a simple message: Mind your P's and Q's.

"It was very illuminating." Hermione mumbled.

Ron coughed. "Don't tell me you enjoyed that, Hermione. That was the dullest speech I've ever heard!"

"I said illuminating, no enjoyable. It explained a great many things."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Really? It just sounded like waffle to me."

Hermione looked at Harry with a disappointed look on her face. "There was some important stuff hidden in that waffle."

"Really?" Ron said, disbelief in his voice.

"Things like, 'progress for progress's sake must be avoided,' or 'pruning where we find practices that should be prohibited'."

Ron looked impatient. "Are you going to tell us what that means?"

"I'll tell you what it means," Jon interrupted. "It means your government is sticking its nose into how things are done at Hogwarts. Maybe even trying to change some things."

Hermione looked at Jon warily. "Now how did you figure that out?"

 _'Oops.'_ "I saw her name mentioned in a couple newspapers. She held a position in the Ministry, if I remember right. Besides," Jon smirked. "We Americans are naturally distrustful of the government. Especially yours."

Harry and Ron both chuckled. Hermione looked thoughtfully at Jon when everyone in the hall got up to head for his or her dorms. Hermione pulled Ron up to guide the first year students, admonishing him for calling them midgets. Jon looked at Harry. "Are they always like that?"

Harry looked at him. "Like what?"

"Do they always fight with each other? Get on each other's nerves?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." They stood up and made their way to the exit of the hall. The first years were following Ron and Hermione. Jon saw Euan with another young blonde boy and they were talking animatedly. Jon waved to Euan who waved back. The blonde boy looked terrified and Jon wondered if he was being intimidating again when he saw the blonde whisper in Euan's ear and suddenly Euan looked frightened. The only difference was he wasn't looking at Jon; he was looking at Harry.

Harry's shoulders slumped. Jon patted him on back. "I thought you said I was the intimidating one?" Harry grinned, but it was halfhearted at best. "Don't worry about it, Harry."

Harry mumbled something Jon didn't catch, then he looked at Ron and Hermione. "See you two later!"

Jon and Harry made their way towards the dorms. Jon was noticing that a lot of the students were either mumbling or pointing as they walked by. "Are they pointing at you or me?" He asked Harry.

Harry's voice was gloomy. "Probably me."

"How come?"

Harry seemed uncomfortable. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Jon nodded. "Fair enough."

The two boys came to a stop at a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. Jon looked at Harry. "Common room entrances marked by paintings here, too?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, only problem is, I don't, erm. I don't know the password."

"No password, no entrance." The fat lady said, her nose in the air.

Jon sighed when a voice came up from behind them. "Harry! I know it. Oh." It was Neville. "Hi, umm. Hi, Jonathan."

Jon made sure his posture was as casual as possible. "Hey Neville." Jon saw Neville was protectively carrying a small gray cactus. "Nice cactus."

Neville flushed. "Oh, thanks. It's not a cactus, really. But it's still pretty cool. It's also the password. _Mimbulus Mimbletonia!_ "

"Correct!" The fat lady sang and the portrait swung open.

Jon stepped back to let the other boys go in first. "Well, you heard the fat lady."

Harry and Neville grinned at the joke as the three boys crawled the hole to the common room. The common room was fantastic in Jon's opinion; warm and medieval, with worn out chairs and sofas and creaky old tables. A fire was crackling, illuminating the room with soft firelight. Harry waved to two other boys, the twins Jon saw at King's Cross that looked a bit like Ron. "Those are Ron's older brothers, Fred and George." Harry explained to Jon.

"I can see the resemblance."

Harry and Neville chuckled as the three boys made their way upstairs to the dormitories. Jon had no idea where he was supposed to go, so he stayed with Harry as Harry opened the door to a room. Two other boys were already there, setting up their beds. Neville squeezed in beside Jon and made for his bunk. There were only five bunks, and Jon noticed his stuff wasn't here. Harry looked back at him. "Umm. I'm not sure where you're supposed to be. Maybe another dorm?"

Jon nodded. "Probably. I'll find it here in a minute."

The other two boys turned and saw him. One was about Harry's height with sandy hair and pale skin; the other was taller than Jon, with dark skin and hair. They both walked up to him, the one with dark skin reaching him first. "Hi, I'm Dean, Dean Thomas. This is Seamus Finnigan. You're the American, right?"

Jon nodded, shaking their hands. "Yep. Jonathan Lionheart. Good to meetcha."

Dean nodded. "It's good to meet you." Dean and Seamus walked back to their beds.

Jon nodded at Harry. "See you tomorrow Harry."

"Yeah, see you."

Jon stepped out of the door way and headed back for the common room. He ran into Ron as he was coming up the stairs, apparently done with his prefect duties. "Hey Ron, you wouldn't umm. Happen to know where I'm squeezed into, would you?"

Ron looked surprised by the question. "No. Sorry. But let's go find out."

They climbed back up the stairs but stopped as they heard a commotion coming from Harry's dorm. Jonathan looked at Ron. "That doesn't sound good."

"Too right. Better see what's going on."

They walked into to the still open doorway and found Harry, one knee on his bed, one foot on the floor, with his wand pointed at Seamus, who looked like he was ready for a boxing match. Jon put his hand on his wand while Ron stepped inside. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Seamus took one step towards Harry. "He's havin' a go at me mam."

Ron shook his head. "Harry wouldn't do that. He met your mother, we both did. We like her…"

"Well that was BEFORE she started believing every word that comes out of the _Daily Prophet!"_ Harry yelled _._

Realization dawned on both Jonathan and Ron's faces. "Oh." Ron mumbled.

Seamus looked at Harry, then to Ron, and then his eyes settled on Jonathan, who was leaning against the door frame, hand still resting hear his wand. "Y'know what," Seamus fumed, glaring back at Harry. "He's right. I don't want to share a dorm with him anymore. He's gone mad."

Ron steamed. "You're out of order there, Seamus."

"Oh, I'm outta order? You're gonna tell me you believe everything he's said, about You-Know-Who and what happened to Cedric?"

"You bet I do!" Ron shouted.

Seamus snorted. "Then you've gone mad with him!"

Ron stepped forward. "Well that's bad luck for you then, because I'm also a prefect! So I'd watch what you say, or you'll end up with detention."

Seamus fumed at Ron, then spun around, yanked his posters off the wall and threw all his loose stuff in his trunk. He spun back to Ron. "Then I'm goin' to a new room."

Ron growled. "Fine with me." He led Seamus out of the dorm and up the stairs.

Jon stepped aside as the two boys skulked past. Harry was still standing with his wand drawn. "Harry," Jon said.

Harry turned to him. "What!?"

"Put the wand away. You don't need it. Pretty sure we're all on your side here." He looked at Neville and Dean. "Right?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't have a problem with Harry. I'm sorry Seamus acted like that. He can be a bit…" Dean trailed off, turned back to his bed and kept getting ready.

Neville spoke up. "My gran always said the _Prophet_ was rubbish. Cancelled our subscription this summer." He looked at Harry. "I believe you."

Harry seemed to calm down knowing he had at least one genuine ally in the room. "Thanks, Neville." He looked at Jon. "You're on my side?"

Jon nodded. "Like I said on the train, you're my friend."

Harry calmed down a lot more, putting his wand on his nightstand. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He looked at the now vacant bed that was pointed right at the door. "Sooo… Is his bunk free?" Harry chuckled softy when a bumping and banging sound caught their attention.

Ron was carrying Jon's backpack and trunk into the room. "Bloody git! Who the hell's he think he is, anyway!?" He dropped the trunk at backpack at the base of the now vacant bed, spinning to Jon. "You're in here, now. But if you give Harry a tough time…"

Jon raised his hands in surrender, impressed at Ron's loyalty to Harry. "Hey, we just covered that. I'm on Harry's side."

Ron grumbled a bit, then went over to his bed and started getting undressed. Jon walked up to his trunk, brought it back to full size and started getting ready for bed himself. It was becoming clear to Jon that Harry Potter was sorely outnumbered in his belief of Voldemort's return, and the sheer amount of flak Harry was getting convinced Jon that Harry was telling the truth. ' _This is gonna be a long year.'_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon bolted up in bed, clutching his wand and pointing it straight at the door. His sleep had been deep but not terribly restful, and his dreams had revolved around the battle at Ilvermorny. He shook his head, looking around the dorm. Ron, Harry, Neville and Dean were all still asleep, but Harry's bed a disaster. _'Nightmares too, huh.'_

Jon got out of bed as quietly as he could and started throwing on his Ilvermorny tracksuit and sneakers. He wrapped his wand holster around himself and tucked his wand into it, making for the door. Once he reached the common room he was surprised so see that no one else was awake. It was probably a couple of hours before the day actually started, but Jon was used to other students starting early.

Climbing out the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room, Jonathan started making his way down to the doors that they came in last night. As he approached the old oaken doors, a dusty looking cat bolted under his feet and up another set of stairs, causing Jon to trip and fall. Dusting himself off he shook his head. ' _Crazy cat.'_

He stepped outside and was greeted with a breathtaking sight. The moon was shining brightly, and it lit everything in an ethereal and otherworldly light. The Scottish highlands around the castle rose out all around, and the grounds were glowing. Not knowing much about the lay of the land, Jon decided to simply run the road that led back to the main gate.

Running became a staple part of Jonathan's life when he stopped managing to sleep all night long. He could grab naps for an hour or so throughout the day, but he could never sleep for more than five hours at most. Since he seemed to do fine physically and mentally on such a short amount of sleep, he just started using the extra time to his advantage. He'd read books, paint, or listen to music. But mostly he ran. It gave him a chance to be alone with his thoughts, and he could talk out loud to himself without anyone thinking he was too crazy.

"Sucks to be Harry." He started his out-loud thinking. "Everyone except those closest to him seems to be against him. And they don't seem to be much support. That leaves… Quite a weight on his shoulders. And he's very, VERY defensive. All the time. He think's everyone is out to get him." It made sense to Jon, though. During the Triwizard, another champion from the school had died. From what he'd been told by Tobias, Harry watched someone murder Cedric Diggory. "That's a helluva thing to see. And, if you haven't… You can't understand it."

Jon stopped running after he'd crossed the viaduct and stared out at the lake. "As close as Ron and Hermione seem to be to Harry, I don't think they get it. I don't think they get what Harry's been through. And I don't think they get what their constant bickering is doing to him." Jon shook his head and started running again.

Tobias and Dumbledore were right. Harry needed someone that could understand what he was going through. And Jonathan certainly knew what it was like to lose friends. "I need to get him… To open up about Cedric if I can." That would be a tough order, Jonathan knew. It seemed that anytime anyone even thought of bringing the subject up, Harry sealed himself up behind a thousand walls and started striking out at whoever pressed him. Jon had seen that to. Things like PTSD and survivors' guilt were common in the war, and Harry seemed to have those things in spades. He didn't seem to trust anyone, and while he could laugh and show other emotions, everything was wrapped in anger and pain. ' _Someone's got to break him out of it. Someone's got to get to the bottom of Harry Potter.'_

"Guess that's… Why I'm here." Jon panted as he finally reached the main gate. He put his hands on his head to help catch his breath. "I just hope I can do it." He walked in circles a bit to catch his breath. It was an easy run, not quite what he'd been hoping for. He wanted more of a challenge. The sun was coming up and Jon noticed the Quidditch patch for the first time. It was almost identical to the one at Ilvermorny, and most importantly, the grounds around it were open and seemingly without hazards. Jon smiled. "It'll do." He made for the patch.

It was roughly thirty minutes by the time he'd made it back to the oak doors of the school. The run still hadn't been quite as challenging as he'd hoped, so he'd gone faster and did a couple laps around the patch. When he finally made it back to the doors of Hogwarts, he was sweaty and a bit muddier than he'd planned, but he was in a good mood as he opened the door. That good mood wasn't going to last.

"AHA! Troublemaker! Sneak! What sort of mischief have you been into!" A gravelly voice was yelling as Jon managed to close the door. He turned to see a hunchbacked man shove him back against the door, glaring up at him with pale, bulging eyes. "What are you doing out of your common room!? Tearing up the grounds! Planting some nice little pranks on the grounds for Mr. Filch, eh?"

Jon held his hands up defensively, trying to back away from Mr. Filch's horrible breath. "No sir. I was out for a run…"

Mr. Filch backed up, an evil look on his face. "You're that new student. The yank! Aren't ya! Dumbledore speaks so highly of you, but you yanks are all the same. Think the rules don't apply to you."

"Now hang on a sec…"

"And your feet! Look at the mud! I have to clean that up, you know! You ungrateful… Come with me. We're going to see your head of house right now!"

Another voice came from around a corner. "His head of house is already here, Mr. Filch. Please keep your voice down. And unhand my student, he isn't a threat to you." ' _Yeah, right.'_ Jonathan thought.

Professor McGonagall stepped up to the two men. "Mr. Lionheart, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I was going for a run, ma'am. Up to main gate, a couple laps around the Quidditch patch, then back."

McGonagall looked at Mr. Filch. "I understand he's broken some rules, Mr. Filch, however I think one pass can be given."

"Now wait here! The rules are the rules…"

"And Mr. Lionheart will be completely brought up to speed on all of them this morning in my office. Thank you for finding him, Mr. Filch. Come along, Jonathan."

Jon glared at Filch before following McGonagall down a few hallways to her office. Once they were inside, she motioned to a chair across from her desk. "Please take a seat, Mr. Lionheart."

Jon looked at her as he was sitting. "I'm sorry for causing trouble, ma'am. It's just a habit of mine, running this early. I didn't think about any rules."

McGonagall nodded. "I wouldn't normally be so lenient with a student, Mr. Lionheart, but I know some of your background." Jonathan stiffened. "Please relax, I'm in full support of your being here. I suspect I only know a fraction of your history, and I'm not going to pry. Dumbledore says you're needed, and frankly I agree." Her voice got soft and quiet. "Harry has been through more than anyone should ever have to go through. I'm quite fond of Mr. Potter, most of the staff is. So do me a favor and do what you can for him. Even if the only thing you can do is understand some of his pain."

Jon nodded. "I'm doing my best, ma'am."

"Good." She regained her strict composure. "I'll write a letter of permission for you to run, along with a map and set of rules as to where you can and cannot go. Please adhere to them; this in itself is a bending of the current rules, and Mr. Filch will look for any reason to give you a detention. I had also wanted to speak with you about a couple of classes. As you're presently scheduled, you are signed up for arithmancy, however I can get you into divination if you'd prefer. That would also allow you to be with Harry more."

Jon grimaced. "I'm not much for divination, ma'am. As much as it might help to be with Harry as often as possible, I think I'll stay put."

A small smile crossed McGonagall's face. "I quite understand." She wrote some notes on a parchment. "You'll get your schedule at breakfast with the rest of the students. You'll want to head up and get ready. You need a shower."

Jon flushed. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

"Don't apologize, just shower."

He almost saluted again, but stopped at an awkward wave. McGonagall noticed and watched Jonathan make his way to the door. ' _I'd bet I know nothing about your life, Mr. Lionheart.'_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon climbed the stairs that led him back into the boys' dorm and entered the room he now shared with Harry. Both Harry and Ron were still in bed, but awake. Dean was gone and Neville was climbing out of bed. Ron looked at Jon as he came in. "Bloody hell, mate. Where have you been?"

Jon looked at himself and realized that he was muddier than he'd thought. "Out for a run."

Neville looked at him nervously. "You could get in trouble for that."

Jon nodded. "Yeah, I ran into Mr. Filch. Not the nicest guy in the world, is he?"

Ron chuckled. "You get detention?"

"Nope. Professor McGonagall saved me just before he did."

Harry nodded as he climbed out of bed. He was moving pretty sluggish.

"Sleep alright?" Jon asked, collecting a change of clothes.

Harry shook his head. "Not really."

"Well, I'll grab a shower and we can go get some coffee in you." He paused. "Ya'll do drink coffee, right? Tell me you don't just drink tea?"

The other three boys chuckled. "We have coffee."

"Thank God." He made his way for the door. "Let's get cleaned up. I could use some black magic myself."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o

 _Sorry this took so lung to update. I wanted to plan out a little more and avoid plot holes._

 _I'm still running awfully close to parallel, but I'm working to slowly peel this away and into it's own story. It's taking longer than I'd hoped or planned. If anyone has ideas, suggestions or advice, I'm all-ears. I'd like people to like this story too, so_

 _Well, I'm already working on the next chapter where hopefully the effects of someone like Jonathan in Harry's life will be more pronounced and meaningful._

 _I'm keeping this in the 90's, so Jonathan's pop culture references_ _should_ _all be okay. If I ever make one that doesn't fit, though, let me know._

 _Just let me know anything, really. Feedback helps make stories better. Even if you want to say it sucks._


	7. Understanding Wounds

_So people are still fav'ing and following. Guess ya'll don't hate it._

 _But I'm a little tired of following quite so parallel. So the new question I've been asking myself is:_

 _How much of the story would someone like Jonathan change? His mindset, his skills, his outsider approach to the whole mess he finds Harry in?_

 _The next question then, is how would these changes affect the course of the story? Would some things progress faster? Would some things happen at all?_

 _Then you need to make sure you avoid the huge pitfall of stories like this: Jonathan cannot be more important than Harry. Jonathan can be a changing force. He can make certain aspects of JKR's original story end differently than they did. But if he eclipses Harry, the whole thing is a joke._

 _And then, how will the story change Jonathan? How will my own character change by going through these events? What sort of interactions can Jonathan have without either totally destroying cannon, or just becoming a total joke?_

 _It's a lot to think about._

 _Oh well. Here we go. Chapter 7._

 _And again, I own nothing. Jonathan is my measly idea, the rest belongs to Rowling._

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o_

A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.

Walter Winchell

o – o – o – o – o - o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Showering wasn't something Jonathan had put much thought into, but now he realized that was a mistake. While the dorms had private shower stalls, you still had a common sink and dressing area. It wasn't that Jonathan was uncomfortable in the environment; the problem was his scars.

His body was littered with scars from his shoulders to his toes. He had burn marks from fires, purple patches from slashing hexes, scars from simple cuts, and some nasty pale skin on his right thigh from where he'd caught a secondary blast from a blocked _Reducto,_ which had blown a hole clean through his thigh. The worst was on his right shoulder.

It was a branding of the word "Traitor," a gift he'd received from a particularly seditious Major of the R.W.A., Major Alexander Lestrange. It was after the fiasco that had been the Battle of Chattahoochee Forest, shortly before he'd become commander of the Seventh Rangers.

O – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

 _The slap across his face didn't hurt nearly as bad as the burns on his back. Jonathan had been shot off his broom and onto the burning deck of the USS Seeker, a fast sloop that was trying to break through an R.W.A. blockade around the Chattahoochee Ship Yards._

 _Someone had managed to pull him out of the fire, but not until he'd already suffered some nasty burns on his back and legs. How Jon found himself on the deck of an R.W.A. cruiser he didn't know, but he knew it wasn't going to end well._

 _Standing in front of him was Major Alexander Lestrange. Lestrange was known to most of the C.W.A. as "The Butcher." He loved to mutilate prisoners as a form of information gathering. Or just for fun. He was a staunch believer in pureblood privilege and superiority, and hated anyone who thought those born from No-Maj families could achieve the same academic or social status as purebloods; especially other purebloods. It was Lestrange that had led the squad that captured and killed Jon's parents._

 _"Jonathan Lionheart. My, my. You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you."_

 _Jonathan looked up and glared at Lestrange. With his left eye swollen shut and blood flowing freely into his right, he couldn't hold a stare for more than a second or two at a time. The pain made his sentences less than coherent. "I'm… I'll kill.. You."_

 _Major Lestrange laughed. "Oh, I don't think so. No, I think the war is over for you. I'll take you to Arizona where you can spend the rest of your life serving me. A sort of trophy, if you will." Lestrange walked out of Jon's limited view and grabbed something metallic. "Since that is what I'm going to do with you, I think I'll need to mark you as my own." He leaned into Jonathan's ear. "Such a waste, you know? Your family was long and distinguished. You could have been great if you'd fought for the right side. Instead, you betrayed who you are. You betrayed others like you. You're a traitor, Jonathan. You must be remembered as such."_

 _The sudden, searing pain in Jon's right shoulder cut through everything else he felt, and Jon couldn't stop the guttural scream that left his lips._

o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon blinked the memory away, thinking just how lucky he'd been that day. The _Constellation, Sagittarius_ and _John Paul Jones_ had arrived shortly after his branding and, after a short parley, the C.W.A. settled on allowing Lestrange to keep the sloop and escape in exchange for all C.W.A. prisoners. Jon hadn't been happy with that arrangement, but Admiral Ice was more concerned with his people than he was with one small ship and the Major. No matter how hated that Major was.

His scars had been treated as best as possible, but many of them would never fade, no matter what treatments were used. This had never been a problem back home, but now, where he needed to keep his past a secret, it was an issue.

Jon managed a way around it. Brushing his teeth first while to other boys got into the showers gave Jon the ability to go in last and not have anyone see his scars. As it turned out, he also showered faster than the others. He jumped out of the shower and started pulling on his uniform, yanking a t-shirt down over himself just as Harry came out of his stall.

"You alright, Jon?"

Jon turned back to Harry. There was no look of horror on his face, just mild concern. Jon guessed he was okay. "Yeah. Just starving."

"Not bloody surprised," Ron called from his stall. "You get up before the sun and go running. Bonkers, if you ask me."

Jon and Harry rolled their eyes as Neville stumbled out of the shower, almost falling over. "You okay, Neville?"

"Y… Yeah. Just… Slippery."

After Neville got dressed, the four boys started making their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Going through the common room, they noticed no one else was there. "Blimey, are we up before everyone else?" Ron asked.

"Probably," Harry said. "Kinda nice, though. No one's staring at me." He mumbled.

Jon caught it and smirked to himself. This was a part of his new plan to help Harry. Try to get Harry to move around when there weren't so many others out and about, and surround him with people that were on his side. Ron was obviously one of, if not Harry's best friend. Neville seemed to like Harry, and he did say he believed him. So far Jon's plan was working. As they walked past some windows Jon caught their reflection and laughed at what came to his mind.

If they weren't wearing robes, the four of them made Jon think of a scene from the movie Tombstone, where Wyatt Earp, his brothers Morgan and Virgil, and Doc Holliday were walking to disarm the Cowboys. _'I think that makes Harry Wyatt. We'll say Ron is Virgil, Neville is Morgan…'_ It was right about then Neville tripped on his robes, catching himself just before he landed flat on his face. _'Okay, sort of. Guess that makes me Doc Holliday.'_ Jon wrapped his thoughts up as they entered the Great Hall, seeing that Malfoy and his gang were already there. _'And I'll be his Huckleberry any day.'_

Ron groaned. "Too bad not everyone is still asleep."

Jon made sure that he and Harry sat so they could see the rest of the tables. "Well, it could be worse, and with you here, Ron, I don't think he'll do anything."

"He'd better not." Ron mumbled.

The boys started eating as other students started filing in. Jon watched as Luna came in alone, a dreamy look planted firmly on her face as she headed for the Ravenclaw table. He watched as she sat down and grabbed a roll, then suddenly looked at him. Her gaze hit him like a ton of bricks, so he turned his attention to the plate of bacon in front of him.

Ron looked at Harry. "So, who do you think is gonna be Quidditch captain this year?"

Harry shook his head. "Not sure, honestly. There's a few people that would make a good choice. Honestly, as long as their pep-talks are shorter, I'll be happy." Ron grinned.

"You three play?" Jon asked.

Ron shook his head. "No. Neville's not much for the playing the sport, and my broom has never really been good enough. Harry, though, he's a brilliant seeker."

Harry shook his head. "I'm alright. I think a lot of it rests on my broom."

"Harry's got a Firebolt! It's incredible!" Neville added, suddenly excited.

Jon raised his eyebrows. "What's so good about a Firebolt?"

"Are you starkers!?" Ron asked.

Jon shook his head. "I don't… Think so. Um…."

"He means mad," Harry explained. "A Firebolt is the fastest broom made in England. It can do one hundred and fifty miles an hour."

"Wow, one-fifty. That's not bad."

Ron looked at Jon dumbfounded. "What do you mean, not bad!?"

Jon shrugged. "We have a broom in America called the Voodoo. It can do one-seventy. There's another one that's sort of experimental right now, called the Mustang. It can do almost two-hundred." Jon, of course, didn't mention that those brooms were made for combat. Though now that the war was over, it was possible some Quidditch teams might adopt de-militarized versions.

Ron whistled and Harry looked amazed. "Have you ever ridden one of them?" Harry asked.

Jon grinned. "Well… I might own a Mustang myself. I know the girl who builds them and she gave me her first build."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron yelled. "You should join the team! You'd guarantee Gryffindor wins every match!"

Jon waved dismissively. "I'm not really good at Quidditch, so I'll pass. But I'm more than happy to let Harry ride it if he wants."

Harry's grin broke into a smile. "Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks!"

Jon shrugged. "No big deal."

They found their conversation suddenly interrupted by a very serious looking black girl with braided long hair. "Hello, Harry. How was your vacation?" Harry opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "Listen, I was made Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Since Wood's left, we need to find a new keeper. I want the whole team to be at the patch at five on Friday for tryouts so we can see how the new person fits in. Okay?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, great! Nice job, Angelina."

The girl smiled, then spun on her heel and stalked away, seemingly looking for someone else. Jon looked at Harry. "She's, umm. Serious."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but she's brilliant at Quidditch. She's gonna make a great captain."

Jon nodded as a bushy-haired girl came up behind Ron and Neville. "What in the world are you doing down here already?"

Harry grinned. "'Morning, Hermione. Surprised?"

Hermione sat down next to Ron and across from Harry. "Yes! I sat and waited for you in the common room and you never came out! Dean told me you all were the first to leave this morning!"

Ron pointed at Jon. "Blame him. We'd have gotten a few more winks if runner-boy over here hadn't woken us up early."

"You were already up, Ron."

"But I coulda grabbed a few more minutes!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It doesn't hurt to have plenty of time. I find being early helps make the day feel less hectic." She looked at Jon. "You run?"

Jon nodded. "Yep."

"Starkers." Ron mumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Some people enjoy physical fitness, Ron." She huffed out. "With how much you eat, you might want to join him." She looked back at Jonathan. "Where did you run so early in the morning? You could have gotten in trouble."

Jon nodded, buttering a slice of toast. "Yeah, I met Mr. Filch this morning. He's a swell guy." Harry, Ron, and Neville laughed. Hermione cracked a smile. "Fortunately, Professor McGonagall rescued me. She's gonna give me permission to go for runs on the grounds in certain places."

"Yeah, she sent a house elf for you," Neville said. "What did she want?"

"Oh. Class schedule problem. Nothing important."

"That reminds me," Hermione announced. She pulled a piece of paper from her robes. "Ron, we need to talk to your brothers."

Ron groaned. "Why?"

"This!" She pointed to the flyer. "They can't use students as guinea pigs for their hair-brained ideas!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're starting to sound like mum."

Jon winced. _'Oh, bad move.'_

Hermione's reaction was exactly what Jon expected. Hermione hit him in the shoulder. "Ronald Weasley! We are prefects! This is what we're supposed to do!"

Ron mumbled something about a person named Percy, causing Hermione to ' _humph_.'

Jon looked at Harry, who was staring at his plate, seemingly upset at his friends' bickering. "Who's Percy?"

Harry looked up. "Oh, Ron's older brother. One of them. He was a prefect when he was in Hogwarts. He's a bit of a…"

"He's a git," Ron said. "And I don't want to be compared to him."

Hermione was about to respond when Seamus and Dean walked by, making Harry scowl. Hermione turned her attention to Harry. "You alright, Harry?"

Harry's eyes followed Seamus. "Just fine." He mumbled.

"Seamus thinks Harry is lying about… You-Know-Who." Neville whispered.

A look of understanding crossed Hermione's face, then it went sad. "Unfortunately, he's not the only one. Lavender thinks so too. I'm sure some of the other girls probably do as well."

Harry dropped his fork forcefully. "Oh, brilliant. So everyone thinks I'm a lying shite clamoring for more attention, is that it!?" His voice carried.

"Harry, language!" Hermione admonished, then recovered to a calm voice. "So you know, I told her to shut her fat trap when it comes to you. And not everyone thinks you're lying. I believe you, Ron believes you."

"I believe you." Neville piped in.

"Me too." Jon said.

"You see? People believe you. So if you could stop jumping down our throats, Harry, we would greatly appreciate it. We are on your side."

Harry looked guilty. "Sorry."

Hermione smiled at Harry. "It's quite alright. You just have to remember what Dumbledore said last year, about You-Know-Who. He said, ' _His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.'"_

"Good points." Jon said.

Hermione nodded. "And look at what's been happening. You-Know-Who's only been back for two months, and we're fighting amongst ourselves. The Sorting hat gave us a similar warning; stand together, be united."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, and like Harry said. If that means we're supposed to be chummy with the Slytherin's, ha! Fat chance!"

Jonathan glared at Ron. "And I said it last night. One bad apple doesn't spoil the whole bunch. How many Slytherins do you know?" Ron looked puzzled by the question. "I thought so. You can't judge one whole group of people based on Malfoy and his thugs. Do you think every pureblood wizard hates those from No-Maj backgrounds?"

"N.. No." Ron stammered. "My family's pureblood."

Jon nodded. "So am I. But I don't care. And I'm sure you'd find a Slytherin or two that think similarly."

Hermione opened her mouth right when hundreds of owls burst into the Great Hall. Apparently it was raining outside, as it seemed more rain than mail was being delivered to students in the hall. Hermione quickly made a space for a large barn owl to land in front of her. Harry grumbled, seeing that the owl was delivering a newspaper called _"The Daily Prophet."_

"What are you still getting that for? You know it's full of lies."

Hermione looked nonplussed. "It's always a good idea to know what the enemy is saying." Harry didn't seem thrilled with the logic as Hermione went through the paper, finally putting it down. "There's nothing in here. Not today, at least."

Professor McGonagall came up behind Ron and Hermione, handing everyone a schedule. She looked at Jonathan. "Mr. Lionheart, if you would please come with me for a moment."

The rest of the group looked at Jon concerned, but Jon just nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He got up and followed her behind the staff table. There he finally saw Mr. Filch standing behind Dumbledore's chair.

Dumbledore saw Jon and smiled. "Ah, Jonathan. Good. I understand there was a small misunderstanding this morning."

Jon shook his head. "No, sir. Apparently, I was breaking some rules I didn't know about."

"See, he admits it…" Filch started.

Dumbledore raised a hand. "Yes, well, I think an exception can be made for Mr. Lionheart. I see nothing wrong with wanting to go for a run. Have you prepared the maps, Minerva?"

"I have, and the rules he'll need to follow as well." Professor McGonagall handed Jon and Filch two rolled up pieces of parchment. One was a map of the grounds with courses drawn on it; the other was a list of rules. They were simple enough. Stay on the marked paths, if someone was going with him they needed to write their names down on a list on the common room bulletin board, and at any sign of trouble, return to the castle immediately.

Jon looked at Dumbledore. "These rules seem easy enough to follow. I'll adhere to them completely, sir."

Dumbledore smiled again. "I know you will, Jonathan. Thank you for agreeing to them so readily." He looked at Professor McGonagall. "Do you also have his schedule?" She handed Jon another piece of parchment with a school schedule. Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Minerva. Mr. Filch. I'd like to ask Jonathan a couple questions before he goes back to his friends." Filch walked away grumbling as Professor McGonagall returned to giving students their schedules.

Jon stepped closed to Dumbledore. "Sir?"

"I just wanted to ask how things are going. With you and Harry." Dumbledore whispered.

Jon nodded. "It's going to be a bit tougher than I thought. He's got a lot of people going against him."

Dumbledore nodded. "I heard about last night."

"Yeah. Needless to say, he's under a lot of pressure. I'll do what I can, though. I suspect a lot of it comes from what happened at the Triwizard." Jon paused. "He doesn't want to talk to anyone about it."

"It was a terrible thing he witnessed. And not many people can understand it properly."

Jon shook his head. "No. But I can. I'll see if I can get him to open up."

Dumbledore smiled. "Good lad!" He picked his voice back up. "Well, I'm glad things are going well. I look forward to hearing about your progress through the year."

Jon nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned and headed back to Gryffindor lunch table. As he was walking up to the table, he watched Ron's two older brothers walk away from the group of friends. "What's up?"

Hermione looked at him. "Oh, just Ron's brothers being… Well, you'll know, when you get to meet them."

Jon chuckled. "Not sure I ever will, we always seem to miss each other." He looked at the group. "So, what are we talking about now?"

Harry took up the conversation a bit quickly. "We're talking about how hard this year is going to be. Or how hard it might be."

"It's bound to be rough," Ron said. "O.W.L.'s are really important, according to Bill and Charlie. They affect what kind of jobs we can even get later on."

"We also get some career advice later in the year," Neville said. "To help us choose what NEWTS to study."

"Have you all thought about what you want to do? After Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Well…" Ron started. "I thought, maybe…"

Everyone looked at Ron. Jonathan started shaking his head. "Well? We're waiting!"

"I thought it'd be cool to be an Auror. There, happy?"

Harry nodded. "That would be cool." He looked at Hermione. "What about you, Hermione?"

She thought for a second. "I'm not really sure. I want to do something really worthwhile. I wonder how far I could take S.P.E.W…."

Jon shook his head. "What's S.P.E.W.?"

Ron nearly jumped out of his seat. "Don't ask her that! She'll be on about it for hours!" Hermione scowled at him.

"I would not go on about it for hours."

"You would too! ' _Oh, the poor little elves…'"_

Hermione hit him with her newspaper. "That is not how I talk!"

Jon looked around, noticing some of the students were starting to leave. He looked at Harry. "Time for the first class?"

Harry nodded, seeming to be far away. "Yeah."

Jon grabbed his bag. "Well, let's head on… Thataways." As the two boys headed towards the door to the Hall, Ron and Hermione followed, still arguing about whatever S.P.E.W. was. Jon looked at Harry. "Sorry for setting them off like that."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't really take much to set them off, it seems."

Jon looked sheepish. "Well, I'll do better to avoid doing that."

Harry shrugged, seeming to go deeper into himself. Jon sighed.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

History of Magic was a beating. That was Jon's official analysis. Taught by a ghost that seemed to have only one speed and tone of voice, Jon struggled to pay attention. He was convinced the only reason he could was that he knew he was behind and didn't really feel like failing.

He had found a seat next to Hermione, who was between him and Harry. Jon decided this was good, though, as he was able to look over and see Hermione's notes if he fell behind on his own. At first, Hermione was offended, but when she saw Jon was making his own notes, and only seemed to glance at hers for spelling or to catch up on a particular topic, she became much friendlier and even seemed to appreciate it. She was not thrilled with Ron or Harry, who didn't seem to be paying any attention at all. Jon couldn't really blame them.

The class came to an end and the four students walked out. Jon shook his head. "That's…." He wiped his face with both hands, looking at Hermione. "How can you stand that?"

Ron and Harry chuckled. Hermione just looked at Jon. "It's important information."

Jon shook his head. "I get that, but seriously. He just keeps droning on in one incredibly unbroken sentence moving from topic to topic and no one has the chance to ask a question. Ugh."

Hermione shook her head. "You seem to manage just fine. These two, on the other hand," she glared at Ron and Harry. "Don't pay any attention. And it shows in their grades. I think maybe this year I'll not be sharing my notes with you."

"Aw, Hermione. You can't do that. We'll never make through O.W.L.'s." Ron whined.

"Well, it would be your just rewards. You don't even try to listen."

Jon handed Ron his notes. "You can use mine, Ron." Hermione glared at him, but Jon just grinned.

"Oi! What do you call this? Did you write this in code?"

Jon laughed. "Well, after you decipher my handwriting, then you can copy my notes." Hermione giggled, and even Harry cracked a grin.

The four students walked outside into a courtyard where a fine mist was falling. The temps were cold and the overcast sky cast everything in a dull grey light. Jon chuckled as they huddled under a balcony. "Well, I guess the jokes about Scotland are right."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"They only have two colors; Grey and damp." The group chuckled. "So, who's the worst professor you all have?" Jon asked.

He got three answers.

"Professor Snape." Hermione

"Snape." Spat Harry.

"Snape." Ron said in a tone of voice that just agreed with the other two.

Jon chuckled. "That bad?"

"Worse," Harry grumbled. "He's horribly unfair to anyone outside Slytherin. Beyond that, he loves to give his students the hardest assignments he can."

"Well," Jon said. "He sounds great."

The other three grinned when Cho walked up to the group. "Hello, Harry!"

Harry looked at Cho. "Oh! Hi, Cho." Jon couldn't help but smirk as Harry's face turned a shade of red.

"How's your day going so far?" Cho asked.

"Oh, not bad. How was your summer?" Harry seemed to cringe after he asked this, and Cho herself seemed to tense up.

Jon decided this was probably a conversation these two wanted a little privacy too. "Well, I think I'm gonna make my way to potions. Hermione, Ron, you uhh… Wanna come with?"

Hermione caught the message. "Yeah, let's head down. Come on, Ron."

Jon turned and started walking back through the courtyard when he heard Ron. "Wait a second. Is that a Tornados badge?"

 _'What the what?'_ Jon thought. He turned to see Ron pointing at something on Cho's robes.

She nodded. "So what if it is?"

"Have you always supported them, or did you just decide to when they started winning the league?"

Hermione elbowed Ron. "Ronald." She hissed under her breath.

Cho stared at Ron cooly. "I've always supported them." She looked at Harry. "See you later, Harry."

Jon watched as Harry's face fell like a ton of bricks. Hermione spun to face Ron head on. "How can you possibly be so inconsiderate!"

"Me!? What'd I do!?"

"Didn't you catch she wanted to talk to Harry alone? That's why Jonathan was asking us to leave."

"Why couldn't he have just said that?"

As the group started making their way down to Snape's classroom, with Ron and Hermione arguing heatedly, Jon stepped in next to Harry. "So, that girl. Cho, right?" Harry nodded. "What's the story? You two…"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. It's… Complicated, at best."

"But you like her?"

Harry managed a small grin. "Yeah, a bit."

"Well, then maybe it isn't so complicated."

Harry sighed. "It's always complicated."

Jon winced at the tone, but couldn't think of anything to say to make Harry feel better as they entered the dungeon that apparently served as Professor Snape's classroom. As the four students sat down, Snape entered the room.

"Settle down." Snape walked to the center of the class. "As many of you may be aware, next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an acceptable in your O.W.L., or suffer my… displeasure."

Jon checked his temper. ' _Well, Dumbledore will be happy. Not liking Snape seems to be getting easier by the moment.'_

Snape continued. "After this year, many of you will cease studying with me. I only take the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means many of you will be saying goodbye." He turned to Jonathan. "Mr. Lionheart."

"Yes, sir."

"You will be expected to keep pace with the class. We will not be working on remedial potions simply because your education may be lacking, am I clear?"

A couple of sniggers could be heard from the Slytherins, but Jon just smirked at Snape. "Crystal, sir."

This seemed to annoy Snape, who spun and quickly marched to his desk. "We will be mixing a potion that is often included in O.W.L. exams: the Draught of Peace."

As Snape explained to the rest of the class what the potion was used for, Jon went from a smirk to a full-blown grin. ' _All too easy.'_ The Draught of Peace was something Jon had brewed hundreds of times both in class and in the field. It was used by the C.W.A. to help soldiers deal with the stress of war and to help younger orphans sleep and focus on schoolwork. Jon had taken the potion several times himself when he first started fighting, but eventually he stopped needing it.

Almost an hour and a half later, Snape started walking around the room. "A light silver vapor should be rising from your potion." He continued to look into different students cauldrons. Jon could tell how well each student had done based on the sneer on Snape's face.

Looking around the table, Jon cursed silently to himself. Hermione's potion was perfect, the silver vapor rising from hers like it was from his own, but Harry and Ron weren't so lucky. Ron's potion stank like eggs cooked too long and fast, and Harry's was belching a dark grey steam.

Snape examined Hermione's potion; no sneer, but he gave no comment either. He came around and looked at Jonathan's. "Well, well. It would appear that the Colonials are finally catching up with the rest of the wizarding world." Jon's temper flared again, and he almost said something when Snape stopped at Harry's cauldron. "Potter, what is this?"

Harry tensed. "The Draught of Peace, sir."

"Is it? Tell me, Potter, can you read?"

Malfoy Laughed, and Harry grit his teeth. "Yes, sir."

Snape pointed at the board. "Then please read for me the third line of instructions."

Harry turned and looked at the board. "Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of hellebore." Harry slumped, signaling this was the step he missed. Jon couldn't understand what the fuss was? As far as he could tell, there were only three cauldrons emitting the proper vapor. Why was Snape making such a fuss over Harry's? ' _Professor Snape is not very fond of Harry. He can, honestly, be very unfair towards Harry. They do not get along.'_ Dumbledore's words came back to Jonathan and he swore silently again. ' _Great job watching out for Potter, Lion-dumb-dumb.'_

Snape continued. "Did you do everything on the third line?" His tone of voice was smug, and it was making Jon sick.

"No." Harry whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

Harry raised his voice. "No. I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you did. Which means, Potter, that this mess is utterly worthless. _Evanesco!"_ Harry's entire potion disappeared. "Those of you that managed to actually _read_ the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it with your name, and bring it to me for testing. Homework is…"

Jon stood suddenly from his stool, knocking it back into the wall behind him. The motion made the students in the room jump. "Excuse me, Professor?"

Snape turned very slowly. "Yes?"

"I assume that means you'll only be accepting three flagons, am I correct?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at Jon with wide eyes. Snape took two steps back towards Jon, sneering. "What makes you believe that false assumption, Lionheart?"

Jon pointed around the room. "I only see three cauldrons with acceptable potions sitting in them. If you plan to evaporate one student's work because it falls short, fairness dictates you should evaporate all the others that fall short."

Snape's sneer got wider. "Your impudence amuses me, Lionheart. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you and I will have a little chat once class is dismissed."

Jon glared at Snape, but sat back down, looking at Harry. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry looked puzzled. "Sorry for what?"

"I could have helped you avoid missing the hellebore."

Harry shook his head as Snape described the homework assignment. "Snape wouldn't have liked that either."

The class dismissed with everyone handing a flagon to Snape. Jonathan stood in front of Snape's desk, waiting for the other students to file out. Once they did, Snape stared at Jonathan from behind his desk. "Did you take Dumbledore's instructions to not like me as an open invitation for disrespect."

"No, sir. I called you out on what I felt was an unfair punishment of a student's simple mistake."

"How noble." Snape drawled. "You are aware, Lionheart, that you have no special privileges here. Your invitation to assist Potter can be rescinded at any time."

Jon clenched a fist. "Yes, sir."

"I would keep that in mind." Snape walked to the door. "Detention with me tonight, Lionheart, at dinnertime. I believe you are quite familiar with missing meals." His sneer grew wider. "I hope you're as familiar with moonstone as you are with the rules of fair play."

Jon ground his teeth together as he walked out of the room. "Yes, sir." Late for lunch, he hurried towards the Great Hall. As he walked up to the group, Harry slammed his fork on the table.

"Will you both shut up!? You're always having a go at each other, and it's driving me mad. Give it a rest, will you!?" He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Jon looked at Ron and Hermione, who were now bickering about whose fault Harry's outburst was. "What was that about?"

"I think Harry's cracking a bit." Ron said sounding miffed.

Hermione hit him with a book. "He's not cracking! He's tired of you constantly starting fights!"

"Oi, you loony. I don't start fights."

Jon rolled his eyes, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small canvas bag with a string tie. "Well, do either of you two know what his next class is?"

Ron looked at him. "Divination, top of the North Tower. Why?"

Jon put two sandwiches and two apples in his canvas bag, pulling the drawstring and hanging it on a hook on his bag. "Well, are either of you going after him?" Two blank faces stared back at him. He grabbed two goblets with pumpkin juice. "Thought so. See in Arithmancy, Hermione."

Jon left Ron and Hermione, with puzzled looks on their faces, in the Great Hall as he tried to find his way to the North Tower. There were a few different ways to go and he couldn't make heads or tails 'till he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"It's a lovely day for a picnic. The rain keeps the Wrackspurts away."

Jon turned to see Luna staring at him, her dreamy expression replaced with one of mild curiosity. Her gaze derailed Jon's thoughts. "Oh. Umm. Wrackspurts?"

She nodded. "Invisible creatures that float in peoples heads. They make your mind all fuzzy."

Jon chuckled. "Well, my head's fuzzy enough, so I guess the rain's a good thing." Luna smiled. "Hey, do you know which way the North Tower is? I'm trying to…"

"Catch Harry Potter." She finished, then pointed to a staircase. "You'll want to go up those stairs." She looked at Jon. "He wasn't in a good mood."

Jon shook his head. "He's…"

"Under a lot of pressure. Not many people believe him, about You-Know-Who. I do, though. So does my dad." She tilted her head, her face turning thoughtful. "What about you, Jonathan?"

The ethereal way her voice said his name caused his voice to hitch. "Ye.." He coughed. "Yeah, I do."

She kept staring at him until her face went dreamy again, a faint smile on her lips. "That's good. He could use more friends that do." She started skipping down the stairs towards the hall, then turned and looked back at Jon. "Have a pleasant day, Jonathan." Then she skipped into the Hall.

Jon stared blankly for a moment, then shook his head. _'Always the different ones.'_ He started making his way up the staircase Luna told him to go. Up the stairs and around a corner, he felt he was getting close. There was a painting of a knight who seemed agitated. When the knight saw Jon, he reached for his sword. "Stand and fight you coward!" Jon glared at the painting, and the knight stepped back. "Never mind, good sir. You may pass."

Jon shook his head and rounded the corner. Harry was sitting with his back against the wall, knees up to his chest and elbows wrapped around them. "I don't want to talk to you, Ron."

"Umm. My name's not Ron."

Harry looked at Jon with a surprised look on his face. "Oh, Jon! Sorry, I thought…"

Jon walked up to Harry and nodded. "Yeah, I know. They were still going at it as I left." He handed Harry one of the goblets. "Saw you didn't get much to eat, so I grabbed a few things." He pulled the bag free and handed it to Harry, then slid out of his backpack and sat down across from Harry.

Harry reached in and grabbed one of the sandwiches and an apple, then handed the bag back. "Thanks."

Jon shrugged. "Don't mention it." As he pulled his own sandwich and apple from the bag, he turned and looked out the window in the wall and out at the grounds. "Nice day for a picnic."

Harry chuckled. "What?"

"Oh, something Luna said on my way up. She also mentioned Wrackspurts."

Harry shook his head. "She's something else."

Jon grinned. "That she is."

Harry looked at him. "Snape give you detention?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. He did. For dinnertime too. Oh well. At least I'll get my twelve inches on moonstone done tonight."

"Sorry," Hary said. "I do appreciate you trying to stand up for me."

Jon shrugged. "Eh, don't worry about it. What are friends for?" He looked at Harry who was now greedily eating his sandwich. "Harry, can I ask you somethin'?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

Jon inhaled. "What happened… During the Triwizard?"

Harry stiffened. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jon nodded. "I understand." He took a bite of his sandwich. Once he swallowed, he sighed. "You know, the last battle of the American Wizarding Civil War was fought at Ilvermorny."

Harry stopped eating and looked at Jon. "R.. Really?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. The R.W.A., err, Restorative Wizarding Army, sent their last major fighting force to try and take the school. Seven hundred wizards and witches, plus their last ship came down on us."

Harry shook his head. "Ship?"

Jon grinned. "We have sailing ships in America. They're in other places around the world, too, but we have a Navy. Tall ships from the golden age of sail, cannons and swordfights and… It's an impressive sight." Jon sighed. "Well, it was. We used to have a hundred and fifty-three ships. Now we only have twenty, and only eight can fly.

"The last battle, at Ilvermorny, the R.W.A. had one ship, it was a small snow brig built near Detroit. Called the _Purger._ Some twenty guns, but a skilled Captain. That ship and the seven hundred wizards were actually expected to attack near Boston. Our army, the Continental Wizarding Army, expected them to try and hit a shipyard one more time. When they came to Ilvermorny… We had no real military support. Not for a while."

"We all had to fight. Anyone fifteen and older fought, the rest tried to evacuate. We had to hold them off for close to an hour before a ship of our own showed up." Jon rubbed his forehead. "I had a friend, her name was Elizabeth Koontz. We met in the hospital ward at Ilvermorny. She was a Ranger, and she was recovering from some battle wounds. We formed a fast friendship. If things had turned out different, maybe it could have been more." He sighed. "I lost her at the Battle of Ilvermorny."

o – o –o – o – o – o – o – o – o

 _"Jonathan!" Elizabeth yelled. "Their ship is coming around!"_

 _Jonathan looked to his right and saw the Purger coming back, seeming to aim at their part of the castle. He looked at Elizabeth. "We need to stay here! Keep covering this entrance!" Jon and Elizabeth had been manning a two-story tower on the north side of Ilvermorny, providing sniper coverage for the north and western entrances to Ilvermorny._

 _She looked at Jon and nodded. "We stay here."_

 _The two kept sending blasting curses and Reducto spells down towards R.W.A. forces that kept trying to breach the castle entrances. The occasional canon blast from the Purger would rock the tower as the ship tried to blast a hole in the building to create an entrance._

 _From behind them, over the constant blasting of cannon fire and hexes crashing into their tower wall, a trumpet sounded a charge. Jon looked and saw a swarm of brooms coming into the fray at high speed, one rider carrying the American flag. Behind the brooms was the outline of another ship. Jon looked at the standard waving on her topmast; it was a flag bearing the constellation Sagittarius. "They're here!" Jon yelled. "The Sagi's here! Look at it!"_

 _Elizabeth turned and gave a cheer! "Hoo-ah!"_

 _The two turned back to the ground, blasting enemy troops with renewed purpose. A shadow crossed over as the Sagittarius flew right over their tower, making a run at the enemy brig._

 _The brig captain, seeing the larger ship coming at him, ordered a broadside into the bow of the Sagittarius in an attempt to dissuade her. Unfortunately, the gun crews didn't adjust their elevation appropriately. As the brigs ten guns went off, one shot went straight for Jon and Elizabeth's tower, the blast sending them flying through the air._

 _When Jon came to, he was lying on the grass, the ride side of his body in searing pain. C.W.A. troops were running past him, charging at enemy forces inside the fence of Ilvermorny. The world was spinning and every sound was like a shot going off in his head. He stumbled to a kneeling position, looking around for Elizabeth. "Liz… Lizzie!?"_

 _To his right he saw a body lying in an unnatural position some fifteen feet away. Jon stumbled over to see it was Elizabeth, contorted in a way that made Jon almost throw up. He body was twisted as if her back was broken, and her legs were resting at impossibly awkward angles, too. He fell down next to her, raising his wand and shooting red sparks into the air. "MEDIC!"_

 _Elizabeth was gasping for air. "Jo… Jon. Jon!?"_

 _He grabbed her right hand, hoping she could feel it. "I'm here. I'm… Gonna get you some help." He kept looking around. "MEDIC!" He yelled again, shooting more sparks into the air._

 _"N.. No. It's too… Too late. Please." She choked. "Can you… Can you hold me? I'm, I'm scared."_

 _Jon maneuvered behind her and pulled her into his lap. She cried out until he stopped moving her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I'm sorry."_

 _"Is alright." She whispered. "This is… This is better. To be with a friend."_

 _Jon kept looking around, hoping to see someone running towards them to help, but still no one was coming. "I'm gonna get you some help."_

 _She rubbed her right hand across his face. "Jonathan, look at me."_

 _Jon looked down at her, tears coming down his face. This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to get hit here. "It shouldn't have been us. It shouldn't be you..."_

 _She tried to shake her head. "Does… Doesn't matter now." She hitched. "Just stay…" She seemed to be looking past Jon, up somewhere in the sky. "Oh, mom." She lurched, coughed up some blood, then fell back limp._

 _Jon sat there with Elizabeth in his lap for the next several minutes, her blonde hair splayed over him before a medic finally showed up. By that time, Jon's own wounds had begun to take their toll and he was slipping in and out of consciousness._

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

While Jon was telling the story to Harry, he left out the fact that himself and Elizabeth were Rangers. Harry sat across from Jon, his sandwich sitting in his lap, seemingly abandoned. "I am… So sorry." He whispered.

Jon gave a small shrug. "It was war. We shouldn't have been hit, but we were. I guess we all knew it could happen, but, still…" Jon inhaled. "My point, Harry, is this. I know what you're feeling. I don't really know what happened with the Triwizard, but I know you watched a friend die. And that's a helluva thing. For anyone."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah. It is." He whispered.

"Well, if you ever want to talk about what happened to someone who's not just trying to pry and can understand, I'll listen Anytime."

Harry looked at him. "You mean that?"

Jon chuckled. "Wouldn't have said it otherwise."

Harry grinned, but it faded fast. "Could I tell you now?"

Jon nodded. "If you want."

Harry looked at his lap, took a breath, and started telling Jon the story. He started with how he was too young for the tournament, but someone snuck his name into the Goblet of Fire and he was forced to compete. He talked about how Hermione was almost his only friend, as Ron had near-as-made-no-difference abandoned him because Harry became a champion. "We're over that now," He said. "But it sucked all last year."

Harry told Jon about the second challenge, and how he saved a prisoner that wasn't his own because he felt it was the right thing to do. He told Jon about the third challenge, and how Viktor Krum was hit with an _Imperius_ Curse and attacked Fleur Delacour. He told Jon about how he and Cedric battled an acromantula together, and how Harry and Cedric decided to grab the Cup at the same time and share the victory.

Then Harry told Jon that the Cup had actually been a portkey that transported Harry and Cedric to a cemetery, and how Harry's scar started to hurt. He cried as he told Jon that Peter Pettigrew killed Cedric Diggory with the _Avada Kedavra_. He kept crying as he told Jon about how Voldemort tortured him and planned to kill him, and used his blood to create a new body; how Voldemort then wanted to duel Harry. He told Jon how his wand and Voldemort's were brother's, and when the duel started it created a _Priori Incantatem,_ and the victims of Voldemort seemed to charge him, allowing Harry a chance to get back to Cedric's body and grab the cup.

When Harry was done with his tale, he was sobbing so hard it seemed he could barely breathe. Jon had seen this hundreds of times, and while he was glad that Harry had trusted him with this burden, Jon knew he was far from over it. Jon crawled over and wrapped his right arm around Harry's shoulders. "It's alright, Harry."

"I… Couldn't… Save him."

Jon shook his head. "Harry, you were injured, you were confused, and you were lost. Voldemort and Peter had the complete drop on you. There wasn't anything you could have done." He pulled back. "Look at me, Harry." Harry looked up. "I've known some of the bravest wizards and witches that have ever lived on this Earth, alright? It would have taken every ounce of skill an Auror or a Ranger might have to get out of that. And since Voldemort is the most powerful wizard known, even all that skill might mean nothing." He held Harry's shoulders. "You couldn't have done more than you did. I know that's not good enough for you, believe me, I do. But you can't keep looking back. You have to look ahead. Staying in that graveyard… It'll kill ya, Harry."

Harry nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeves. "Thanks." He sighed. "I just wish people would believe me. They think I'm a liar, or… That I killed Cedric."

Jon winced. "That's the toughest part. Eventually, the truth will get out. But people are always afraid of the truth, especially when it shatters their fragile world. You just need to stay the course, Harry. You're not alone. I believe you, Hermione believes you and Ron believes you. So does Neville. Hey, Luna believes you too." Both boys chuckled at that. "And I'm sure there's more. It'll take time, Harry, but don't lose heart. The night is always darkest before the dawn."

Harry gave a smile. "Thanks, Jon. You're the first person that's actually just offered to listen."

Jon shrugged. "Like I said, I get it."

A few students could be heard coming up the stairs to the hallway of the tower. The boys cleaned up their lunch with Jon taking the goblets. "I'll drop these… Somewhere."

"You don't have Divination?"

Jon laughed. "Heck no. Seeing the future? Please. There is no fate but what we make."

"You believe that?" Harry asked.

Jon shrugged. "Sometimes. Mostly it's a movie quote. Seemed to fit the moment." The two boys laughed. "I'll see you later, Harry."

Harry nodded earnestly. "Definitely, Jon. And thanks again."

"Don't mention it."

"Don't mention what?" Ron asked as he walked up to the two.

Jon grinned. "Wrackspurts, Ron. They make your brain all fuzzy." He walked away, leaving a laughing Harry and a dumbfounded Ron behind.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

 _That feels much better to me. It feels a lot more AU and a lot less copy and paste. I'm pretty happy with this chapter._

 _Obviously, if something seems really off let me know._

 _Jonathan keeps growing and changing a bit in my mind. Originally he was going to be this insanely mature drill sergeant type, but as I've been working on the story, he's developed a sense of humor and he's become a bit more… Like a teenager. Which makes him a very difficult character. How can a teenager deal with the horrors of war, and yet not become as hard as stone? It's a challenge, to keep him balanced._

 _Major Lestrange? Is that a coincidince, I wonder?_

 _I'd also like to help with some mental visualization, if you'd like. If you're curious as to what a snow brig is, you can google the USS Niagara. She's a small ship with a famous history, and would be roughly what the Purger would look like._

 _Sagittarius is a sixth-rate frigate. If you google HMS Surprise, you'll have a fair notion of what the Sagittarius, in my mind, looks like. Of course, you can imagine anything you'd like._

 _That sounded a bit Mr. Rodgers there. Sorry._

 _Anyway, let me know what you think so far. Ideas, questions, comments, concerns complaints and snide remarks are all welcome._


	8. Brick in the Wall much?

_So, first things first I need to apologize. I had an overlap of moments between my last two chapters that I didn't notice in my first edits. I've fixed it now, and I'm sure a few people caught it. I'm not going to tell you what it was, just know that I caught it and fixed it._

 _I'm also sorry that this update took so long to get posted. Most of my free time ended up vanishing with work and career training. I promise I'll try to do better in the future._

 _Add that to the challenge of doing this story right, and not just creating some junk._

 _Anyway, thanks Bosma17 for the review, and to everyone else who has fav'd and followed. I'm glad you like it and hope to keep writing something you enjoy._

 _And again, I own nothing. I had an idea, I'm exploring it, and you're along for the ride as I make a mess in JKR's sandbox._

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

After having to ask a few people for directions, Jon managed to make his way to the Arithmancy classroom. He was the last student to make it before class started, which left him with only one seat up front for him to claim. He didn't think this was such a bad thing as it was next to Hermione, but this presented a new problem.

As soon as Hermione saw him her gaze went from anxious to cool and unfriendly. _'Oh crap,'_ he thought. Thinking on his last conversation with Hermione and Ron, he realized he probably stepped on some toes without thinking. This put a damper on his good mood; he couldn't be Harry's friend while alienating the people that were already in his life. _'Looks like I've got some damage control to do.'_

When class came to an end, Hermione shot out of her spot like a bullet, and Jon nearly had to run to catch up to her. "Hey, Hermione!"

She stopped and spun on her heels to face him. The look on her face would have made Jon a little afraid for his life if he hadn't seen half the things he'd seen. "Exactly who do you think you are!?"

Jon held his hands up in a placating manner. "Look, I know…"

"Ron and I have been Harry's friends since first year! We've been with him through some of the toughest times he's faced! We know more about him than you probably ever will! You've been here for all of two days and you think you know him better than we do!?" Her voice kept climbing in pitch and speed as she talked, and students were staring as they walked past.

Jon kept his calm. "Can I ask you something?"

She crossed her arms. "What?"

"Were you with him when Cedric died?"

The question seemed to pull the rug out from under her. "N… No. He was the champion. We weren't allowed to be with him."

Jon nodded. "So you weren't there when he watched someone he considered a friend get murdered?"

Her arms fell to her sides. "No."

"Can I ask another question, Hermione?"

She looked at Jon uncertainly. "Yes."

"Have you ever watched someone die? Doesn't matter how. Have you seen death?"

She chewed her bottom lip, fidgeting with her hands. "No." She said quietly.

Jon scratched the back of his head, noticing a bench in the hall. "Here, sit for a sec." They sat down, Jon turning so he was facing her. Sighing, he continued. "I've seen death, Hermione. I've watched friends die in front of me. I've heard of their deaths when they were away from me. I've held a friend in my arms as she took her last breaths in this life." Jon told Hermione the story of Elizabeth Koontz.

When he finished the story, Hermione sat stunned. Wiping teary eyes, she looked at Jon. "I'm so sorry. I didn't… Oh, and I was so rude."

Jon shook his head. "You didn't know. And I was rude, too. I stepped on your toes and Ron's at lunch and for that I'm sorry. It's just that… I've seen Harry's attitude before. The anger, the snappishness, the withdrawal; it always comes after something traumatic."

"Something like Cedric being murdered." Hermione whispered.

"Exactly." Jon rubbed his temples. "I asked Harry about what happened with Cedric."

"He doesn't like to talk about it."

Jon nodded. "I noticed. But he opened up, after I told him about Lizzie."

Hermione looked surprised. "Really?" Then she thought. "Well, that actually makes sense, since you told him what happened to you."

Jon nodded. "Yep. I think, when I told him about Lizzie, he realized I didn't see him as a freak or a liar."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately, that does seem to be how most people see him."

"I know. Look, this is something… That a lot of people who have never experienced this kind of trauma can really understand. When you and Ron, Harry's best friends, fight like you two do, it makes him feel like… Like the solid ground under him isn't so solid. Like the things he counts on in the life can't be trusted to be there for him when he needs them."

"He can't understand why you're fighting about things that, to him, now seem trivial compared to what he's seen. He knows just how fragile life is. And when you and Ron just go at each other about things, it's… Painful. That's the best way I can describe it. It's painful to him."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip again. "Do you… What can we do for him, besides stop the fighting?"

"Be there for Harry. You're right, Hermione. I don't know him. I've been here for two days. You've been with him for years, you have a much better idea of how to help him and support him. But you need to understand; he's not going to be the same Harry you've grown up with. Not for a while, and maybe never again. He's going to be… Vulnerable. Irritable. His moods are going to swing from one extreme to the next. He'll hurt you without even thinking."

"Just do your best to go with it. Be as gentle, loving and forgiving as you can." Hermione blushed at that bit. Jon noticed, but kept going. "That's what he's gonna need most, Hermione. He needs to know that you and Ron are behind him, no matter what. And that you're united and not bickering with each other."

Hermione looked at Jon, her eyes watery. "How is it you can see this, but I can't?"

"I'm the outsider. My view is mostly neutral. And I'm fairly experienced with war veterans." Jon looked at a clock hanging on the wall across from them. "We'd better go or we're gonna be late."

Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes as they stood and started making their way to the DADA class. "Thank you, Jon. For pointing this out. For helping us. For helping Harry."

Jon shrugged. "It's no big deal. I'm kinda used to it. Just keep in mind you're gonna need to handle Harry a bit more gently than you're used to."

As the two students rounded the last corner heading for class, Ron and Harry were waiting outside the room. As soon as Harry saw Hermione he visibly relaxed, but that went away as soon as Hermione tackled him with what looked like a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I… Well, there were some things I didn't understand." She looked back at Jon and smiled. "But I think I do. I'm sorry for making things harder on you."

Harry looked at Jon who just shrugged. "Th… Thanks, Hermione. I, well… I owe you an apology too. For snapping like that. I know you're on my side, it's just…"

"You're dealing with a lot." Hermione finished. "I know. And I'm going to help you with it." She looked at Jonathan and Ron. "We all will. As best we can." She reached down and grabbed Harry's hand, squeezing it tight.

"Isn't that sweet." The voice of Draco Malfoy came from behind Jon, sounding sickly sweet. "Potter's got a girlfriend." Jon turned and saw Draco and his two enforcers.

"Shove off it, Malfoy!" Ron spat.

Draco shrugged. "Personally, I think Potter could do better than a buck-toothed Mudblood."

As soon as the word left his mouth, Draco found Jon standing toe to toe with him, their faces only a couple of inches apart. The look in Jon's face was murderous, and Draco seemed to shrivel. "What did you call her?" Jon growled, his voice growling almost like that of a wild cat.

Draco backstepped two steps in an effort to get some breathing room, only to find Jon stepped forward, keeping the same distance. "Well… She is, a little Muggle-raised mud…."

Jon balled his right hand into a first and started to swing a solid uppercut when Ron's arms wrapped around his own and started pulling him back. "You can't, Jon. Back off!"

Harry was in front of Jon pushing him back. "He's a prefect, Jon. You can't hit him."

A small crowd of students was now watching the spectacle. Malfoy, sensing the threat was contained, started strutting, feeling he now had control again. "That's right, Potter. Call of your new dog. I think he should serve detention for threating a prefect." Jonathan growled as he tried to get out of Ron and Harry's grip.

Hermione stood in front of Draco now, and most amusingly, the look on her face caused him to cower in the same amount of fear Jon had caused. "How about I give Crabbe and Goyle detention for a week for slandering a prefect? Or maybe I just go the headmaster and tell him what you said about me?" Malfoy wavered and Hermione continued. "Jonathan was protecting a fellow student from emotional abuse. I think Dumbledore would grant a little leniency in this case."

From the entrance to the classroom, there was a small " _hem hem."_ Everyone looked and saw the very short and toad-faced Dolores Umbridge standing in the doorway, on overly sweet, and frankly fake looking, smile on her face. "Is something the matter out here?"

Jonathan shrugged Ron off, and Hermione glared at Draco one more time before answering. "No, Professor. Just a misunderstanding. It's cleared up now."

Umbridge seemed to consider this for a moment, before looking at Malfoy. "I believe you have class somewhere, do you not, Prefect Malfoy?"

Draco nodded quickly. "Yes, Professor."

"Well, then I suggest you get going. You wouldn't want to be late."

Malfoy glared at Hermione, then Jon, before ducking down the hall, Crabbe and Goyle in tow behind him.

"Yeah, you better run." Jon mumbled.

Harry shot Jon a sympathetic look as they headed into class. Ron and Harry sat next to each other in a set of middle row desks, while Hermione and Jon sat across the aisle from them next to the wall. As everyone was getting settled, Hermione looked at Jon. "You should be a bit more careful."

Jon pressed his lips into a thin line. Hermione was right, of course, but it was still so frustrating that someone like Malfoy could skate like that. Unable to say anything without sounding angry with Hermione, Jon simply nodded tersely.

Once all the students settled down into their chairs, Professor Umbridge took a spot on the left side of her desk. "Well! Good afternoon, class."

Only a handful of students muttered in reply.

Professor Umbridge _tsk'd_ twice. "Now, that simply will not do! I should like you to say, 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' Let's try again, all together. Good afternoon, class!"

Jon rolled his eyes as, like robots on command, the classroom replied. "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge."

Umbridge smiled sweetly, (sickeningly so, Jon thought.) "Marvelous! Now. Wands away, quills out if you please."

Jon removed several pieces of parchment and his navy blue and gold fountain pen, waiting for Professor Umbridge to continue. When Professor Umbridge pulled out her own wand, Jon paid it some extra attention. It was short and thick, made of a dark wood. This alarmed Jon a bit, as most everyone he'd met in his life that had a short wand was dangerous and sinister in some fashion.

Professor Umbridge tapped the blackboard with her wand, making the words "Defense Against The Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles" appear.

"Well, after a thoroughly exhaustive review of your previous class years, it seems to me that, for the majority of this class, your instruction on this subject has been terribly fragmented. The constant changing of teachers and their apparent lack of instruction resembling anything close to a Ministry-approved curriculum has resulted in your being very far behind where you should be in an O.W.L. year."

She sighed, smiling as if she were pleased with herself. "However, this is going to be remedied this year! I have devised a carefully structured, theory-centered Ministry-approved course for you. Please copy the following."

She tapped the blackboard again and it filled with her planned course aims. Jonathan had to fight not to laugh. ' _No one warned me I was going to have to go this far backwards! Let's see. Number one, understanding the principles underlying defensive magic. Two, learning to recognize situations where defensive magic can be used legally. Uh huh. And three, placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use. I just might fall asleep in this class.'_

As he was trying to look busy copying down Professor Umbridge's instructions, she came and stood next to his and Hermione's table. "Mr. Lionheart?"

He stopped writing and looked up. "Yes, ma'am?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes, Professor Umbridge." She said expectantly.

' _Oh for cryin' out loud.'_ "Sorry, Professor Umbridge." Jon had to work a bit to keep his tone neutral.

Umbridge smiled. "That's quite alright, dear. Now, I wanted to make sure you felt able to keep up with the class."

Jon shook his head. "I don't understand, ma… Professor Umbridge."

Her sweet smile widened. "Well, it has been a long-held belief of the Ministry that formal Wizarding education in the Colonies has always been lacking compared to our own." Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, and Jon grit his teeth so hard he thought he might crush some. "I simply wanted to ensure that you didn't feel intimidated by the objectives or course book, especially with this being O.W.L. year."

Jon's temper was still hot after his encounter with Malfoy and having both himself, his country and his school insulted by this Ministry _hag_ wasn't helping. A thousand insults ran through his mind, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Professor Umbridge. If I find myself needing some help, I'll be sure to seek it out."

This seemed to satisfy Umbridge. "Splendid! That's an excellent attitude to have, Mr. Lionheart." She turned and started heading back towards her desk. "Now, has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

Only Jon and Hermione seemed to have caught on that Umbridge loved to hear her name and title said out loud by those under her. The rest of the class mumbled their answer.

"Mmhmm. Let's try that again, shall we? When I ask a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' Now. Has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by William Slinkhard?"

As the class chanted "Yes, Professor Umbridge," Jon couldn't help but mutter. "Brick in the Wall, much?" Hermione sniggered, but quickly regained her composure.

Umbridge continued. "Excellent! Now, please turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' And please be quiet, there's no need for talking."

As she sat behind her desk, watching the glass with keen interest, Jon started reading. He read one paragraph and gave up. _'This is a bad dream. Basics for beginners? These are fifth year students. Even without what I've gone through, this is beneath them.'_ He started flipping quietly ahead, skimming over the material in chapter one. _'This must be what going mad feels like.'_

Jon was about to raise his hand to ask a question when he noticed something pop up in his peripheral vision. He looked to his left to see Hermione's hand raised as high as it would go. She was staring at Professor Umbridge expectantly, and Jon got the feeling she was going to sit like that all day if she needed to.

Jon looked over and saw Harry looking at Hermione, a puzzled look on his face. She glanced at him, shook her head, then kept staring at Professor Umbridge. Jon looked at Harry, nodding at Hermione as if to ask, "what's this about?" Harry shook his head, shrugging.

Professor Umbridge and Hermione seemed to be in a cold war; one stared at the other intently, the other looked away just as intently. After several minutes it got to the point to where most of the class was staring at either Hermione or Umbridge.

Finally, Umbridge looked at Hermione. "Do you have a question about the chapter, dear?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not the chapter, no."

Umbridge smiled. "Well, for the moment we're just reading. If, once we've finished, you still have queries, we can deal with them at the end of class."

That didn't satisfy Hermione. "I have a query about your course aims." Her tone of voice was one of mild annoyance.

Umbridge seemed surprised by her response. "And you are, dear?"

"Hermione Granger."

Umbridge widened her smile. "Well, Miss Granger, if you read through the course aims I'm sure you'll find them perfectly laid out."

Hermione shook her head. "I have read through them and I _don't_ think they're well laid out. You haven't mentioned anything about _using_ defensive spells." Hermione's voice was almost accusatory, as if she felt she was being wronged in some fashion.

Silence enveloped the room. Jon smirked, looking at Umbridge while everyone waited for an answer, contemplating what Hermione pointed out. After a couple of moments, Umbridge gave a little nervous laugh, as if she'd been caught and hadn't expected it.

" _Using_ defensive spells? Why, Miss Granger, I can't honestly think of a reason as to why you would need to _use_ a defensive spell in my classroom. You're not expecting to be attacked during our class, are you?"

Jon held his tongue. The number of times the R.W.A. had sent scout teams and infiltrators to Ilvermorny was higher than anyone wanted to admit. There had been a point in time where everyone was so jumpy that a few young wizards and witches found themselves in the hospital wing from a burn hex because another student just didn't recognize them. Hogwarts might not be in the middle of a civil war, but Jonathan still shot his head in the direction of any sudden movement he caught in his peripheral vision, or any noise he couldn't immediately identify, and was always watching other people's hands.

Ron, meanwhile, did not hold his thoughts inside. "Wait, we're not going to use magic!?"

Umbridge took the outburst in stride. "Students raise their hands when they want to speak in my class, Mr...?"

"Weasley!" Ron almost yelled, jamming his hand as high as it would go, which Umbridge promptly ignored.

More hands shot into the air, including Hermione's and Harry's. Jon looked around. _'Well, this is deteriorating quickly.'_ And he was right. For at least the next five minutes, various students and Professor Umbridge went back and forth, arguing about the layout of the class, expressing concerns about learning enough for O.W.L. tests, disappointment in not actually learning defensive spells. At one point, Umbridge let slip that she was probably racist, calling one of her predecessor's, one Professor Lupin, a dangerous "half-breed." That remark steamed Harry, Ron and Hermione more than anything else.

Jon was sure he'd have probably lost his temper at some point, so did his best to tune everything out, focusing on flipping through the book in front of him. He made a promise to stay out of trouble, and he'd failed to keep it most of the day so far. Eventually, though, he heard Harry say something that brought him from his self-imposed isolation.

"Hmm. Let's think for a second… Oh, I don't know. Maybe _Lord Voldemort?"_ Harry called out, his voice a mixture of anger and mockery.

Jon shot his head up as some students whimpered and others even screamed. Poor Neville fell out of his chair. Hermione looked worriedly at Harry. ' _Shots fired,'_ Jon thought. He looked at Umbridge expecting to see her look upset or shocked. Instead, she looked… pleased. It was a look Jon would expect to see on the face of a Wizarding navy captain after his enemy made an obvious blunder. _'Oh crap. She expected that. She_ _ **wanted**_ _that.'_ Jon glanced at Harry, imaging an enormous target painted on him. ' _He really does need twenty-four-seven monitoring, doesn't he?'_

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom went silent, and Harry was gritting his teeth. This was only going to get worse. As Jon wracked his brain for a way to get Harry out of the fire he just threw himself into, Umbridge stood from behind her desk.

"Allow me to make a few things very clear." She leaned forward onto the desk, like a general discipling his officers. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard is back from the dead…"

"He wasn't dead, but yeah, he's returned!" Harry spat.

Umbridge's face went red. "Mr. Potter you have already lost your house ten points, DO NOT make things worse!" She took a breath, calming herself. "As I was saying, you have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned and is at large. This. Is. A. Lie."

"No it isn't!" Harry yelled. "I saw him! I fought him! He killed Cedric!"

Jon closed his eyes, wincing. ' _Checkmate_.'

Umbridge smiled the most disgusting smile Jon had ever seen, like a villain that just trapped the hero. "Detention, Mr. Potter. Tomorrow evening at five o'clock! My office. Now, I repeat, these are lies! The Ministry of Magic guarantees that no one is in any danger from a Dark wizard. If you are still concerned, then by all means come see me after class and I will assuage your fears. If someone is alarming you with fibs about Dark wizards, I want to hear about it.

"I am here to help you. All of you. I am your friend." She sat back down, smoothing over some papers on her desk. "Now, let's return to the reading. Page five. If you please."

Harry shot up like a thunderbolt, pure anger on his face. Hermione reached across the aisle, tugging on his sleeve. "Harry, no!" She whispered. He refused to come back down. As Harry opened his mouth to damn himself further, Jon shot up.

"Professor Umbridge, I have a question about our reading!" Harry shot him a glare, but Jon just shrugged. Hermione looked at him thankfully.

"Yes, Mr. Lionheart?"

Jon raised the book up. "Is there going to be a homework assignment over this reading?"

This puzzled Umbridge. "Yes, there will be an assignment."

Jon nodded. "Would it be possible for me to have it now, Professor?"

Everyone stared at Jon. Umbridge looked amused. "Why, Mr. Lionheart, you haven't finished the reading."

A small smirk played across his face. "Well, Professor Umbridge. I'm afraid I learned all this in my first year at Ilvermorny."

Umbridge's eyes narrowed. "I find that highly unlikely, Mr. Lionheart."

Jon nodded. "I can understand that, what with us _Colonials_ being so… Inferior to your Ministry's education standards. But as you might be aware, we've been in something of a civil war for the past four years. Certain classes at Ilvermorny were taught at an... _E_ _nriched_ level, to prepare wizards and witches for war. Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts were all considered top priority. Frankly, Professor. I could probably take the O.W.L.'s for those classes today and pass easily. I could maybe even take the N.E.W.T.'s and pass just as easily.

"So, it would be a huge help to me, Professor Umbridge, if I could work on the homework assignments while I was in class. That would really let me free up time to work on classes I might not be so much more advanced than in everyone else. Like… Care of Magical Creatures. Or Arithmancy. To name a couple."

Professor Umbridge smiled another sickeningly sweet smile. "Mr. Lionheart, I do admire your desire to prove yourself to the staff here. However, such theatrics will not endear you to anyone." She glanced at Harry. "We have enough attention seekers in the school as it is."

"Well, if it would help to convince you, I'm more than prepared to give a practical demonstration. Or perhaps to answer some random questions you can come up with." Out of the corner of Jon's eye, he noticed Harry seemed to be calming down, or at least focusing his anger on Jon for derailing him. _'I can't expel him, so that's an improvement.'_

Umbridge studied Jon carefully. "You seem to be quite sure of yourself, Mr. Lionheart." Her smile went wider. "Very well. I shall give you a chance to prove yourself. You have until the end of class today to complete seven inches on the instructions I will post on the board. If you cannot meet the deadline, however, you'll join Mr. Potter for detention. I do not appreciate theatrics like this in my classroom."

Jon hid a smirk. "I understand, Professor Umbridge." As Umbridge tapped the blackboard causing the assignment to appear, Jon glanced at Harry who was glaring at him. Jon shrugged. If Harry had kept on the course he was going, who knew what Umbridge would have done to him. Beyond that, Jon knew there were only so many times he could run such interference. If Harry got into that kind of spitting contest with Umbridge again, there wouldn't be anything Jon could do for him.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

A thankful group of fifth-years burst out of the DADA classroom. Harry was still fuming, Ron and Hermione were angry about the format of the class, and Jon had a mild strut in his walk. With ten minutes left of class he handed in his seven inches of writing to a very surprised Dolores Umbridge, who, after looking it over, seemed completely shocked that it was not only well written, but full of knowledge instead of bluff.

Rounding the corner heading for dinner, Jon wanted to talk to Harry before he had to go serve his own detention with Snape. "Harry!" Harry kept walking. Jon jogged up next to him. "Look, Harry, I know you wanted to prove…"

"You don't know anything!"

Jon grabbed Harry by the arm and stopped him dead in his tracks. The force and strength surprised Harry. "You know better than that, Harry. Look. If you'd kept going, there's no telling the kind of punishment Umbridge would have slapped you with. You'd already lost the House ten points, making your housemates angry at you. And you have detention tomorrow night. If you'd kept going, you could have gotten detention for a week, a month, or maybe even worse."

Harry thought about this for a second when Hermione piped up. 'He's right, Harry. You need to be careful, especially around Umbridge. Saying the things you were saying…"

"The truth!?" Harry ground out.

Hermione closed her eyes, then continued. "Yes, Harry. The truth. It's dangerous. We believe you, but the Ministry doesn't want people to believe you. They can't afford the panic."

"She's right, mate." Ron agreed. "You said it yourself, Umbridge was at your hearing. She already doesn't like you. You need to mind yourself."

Jon put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Look, I know it's tough. Believe me, I do. Just keep your head down. You have enough problems on your plate without professors trying to end your education." Jon looked at a clock on the wall. "I have to go. Detention with Professor Snape. I'll see you all after dinner, alright?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded as Jon made his way down towards the dungeons. The gravity of what he'd been asked to do was finally starting to sink in with Jon. _'Dumbledore must have known Umbridge was put here to keep an eye on Harry. So, I need to help protect Harry from Voldemort, from the Ministry, from professors and students here at Hogwarts, and worst of all… From himself.'_ Jon sighed. "I'm much too young to feel this damn old."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Detention with Snape had been, thankfully, a quiet affair. Snape had given Jon his assignment and said nothing else, allowing Jon to work on his twelve inches on the properties of Moonstone in silence for the hour.

When he turned his paper in, Snape looked it over with an emotionless mask. "Perhaps, Mr. Lionheart, you are more than reputation alone." He set the assignment down. "The Headmaster has requested you see him before you retire for the evening."

Jon sighed. "Yes, sir."

Snape looked at Jon, as if he were sizing him up. "You're dismissed."

Jon grabbed his pack and left the dungeons. When he made it to the main floor and was standing outside the Great Hall, he realized that he had no idea where Dumbledore was right now, or even where his office was. He rubbed his temples when a voice came from behind him.

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Lionheart." Jon turned to see Dumbledore standing at the entrance to the Great Hall, having ushered the last remaining students from the hall to their common rooms.

Jon walked up to him. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Let's head to my office. I promise I won't keep you long."

Jon followed Dumbledore up several flights of stairs until they reached the hall to his office. Dumbledore walked up to an intricately carved gargoyle. "Acid pops." The gargoyle leapt aside, and Jon followed Dumbledore up the stairs that led to his office.

The first thing Jon noticed was that the office was very dimly lit. He couldn't really see anything besides Dumbledore's desk, which Dumbledore was walking towards. "Please, take a seat, Jonathan. I apologize for it being so dark. I've not been spending a lot of time in this room so far this week."

"It's alright, sir."

Dumbledore looked at Jonathan over the top of his spectacles. "I hear you had an interesting first day of classes."

Jon sighed. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Dumbledore smiled softly. "I would be lying if I said I expected you to transition into Hogwarts smoothly and without incident. However, I do need you to try harder to blend in."

"I will, sir." Jon paused. "May I ask a question, sir?"

"Yes."

"How are prefects chosen here at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore seemed surprised, like this was not the question he was expecting. "They are chosen by the Head of their House, and myself."

Jon nodded. "So just like Ilvermorny." He paused. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"You don't need to ask, Jonathan."

Jon sighed. "Making Draco Malfoy a prefect was a mistake. He does not have the leadership skills or temperament for the position."

An almost sad look came across Dumbledore's face. "Yes, I have heard of some of Draco's actions. Unfortunately, Professor Snape was adamant that he be made a prefect, and he does have the grades to earn the position."

"Grades aren't everything, Headmaster. I'd rather have a prefect that can't ride a broom or brew a potion than a prefect like Malfoy. He's abusing his position, and he's using it as a weapon against Harry."

"I understand. Unfortunately, unless Draco violates Hogwarts rules for prefects, he must remain a prefect for the rest of the year."

"And bullying first year students isn't against the rules?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Sadly, the rules are rather vague."

Jon rubbed his forehead. "Of course they are."

Dumbledore smiled. "Your sense of right and wrong is quite strong, Jonathan. It's a part of why you were chosen. I promise you, come the end of the year, Draco's position as prefect will be strongly re-considered."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "In the meantime, Jonathan, I need you to lay low. So far, I don't think any damage has been done to your cover, but you cannot take anymore risks. I understand you want to protect Harry, but unfortunately, if Harry puts himself out there as he did earlier today, you're going to have to let him take whatever comes. You cannot protect him like you did."

Jon frowned. "He could find himself in some serious trouble."

"I know, but it must be this way. The Ministry will remove you if they find out who you are. And Harry will need your help much more than he will need an easier time at Hogwarts."

"I have mentioned I don't really like this, right?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Once or twice. Please, Jonathan. You must keep a lower profile."

Jon nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll do my best."

"I know you will. Now, you missed dinner. I can have a house elf bring something to your dorm."

Jon shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. "Thank you, sir, but Professor Snape was right. I am used to missing meals. I'm also prepared. I'll grab something from my stash."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then you probably want to head to your dorm. Goodnight, Jonathan. And good luck."

Jon nodded, then turned back to the door.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

After Jon finally got back to the Gryffindor common room, everyone else was already in their dorms. Neville, Dean and Ron were already asleep, but Harry was still up. When Jon walked into the dorm, Harry got out of bed.

"Hey, can we talk?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah, lemme grab something from my trunk." Digging around in his trunk he managed to find what he was looking for; a standard U.S. Army MRE.

As the two students left the dorm and headed for the common room, Harry looked at the pouch. "What is that?"

Jon smiled. "Meal Ready to Eat. Ilvermorny required students to keep several in different locations, in the event we needed to evacuate the school in the middle of the war. These come from the No-Maj Army. Pretty handy little things. Tonight's flavor…" He turned the pack over. "Beef stroganoff. One of my favorites, actually."

Harry shook his head. "I can't honestly imagine what the last few years have been like for you."

' _No, you can't.'_ "Hopefully you'll never have to."

Harry had a look on his face, like he could see the deeper meaning in what Jon had said, but then his face softened as the two sat down in plush chairs across from each other. "Look, I wanted to talk. About earlier."

Jon tapped the MRE with his wand, causing steam to come out of the opened pouch as he warmed it up. "In Umbridge's class?" Jon took a forkful of the MRE and grimaced.

Harry chuckled. "Not good?"

Jon shrugged. "Eh. Could be worse."

Harry shook his head, then continued. "Well, yes. About what happened in class. Look. I got upset at you after and I shouldn't have."

Again Jon shrugged. "It's okay, Harry. Umbridge is… Well. Trouble. She's going to be pressing on your buttons at every opportunity."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Hermione said the same thing."

Jon looked at Harry sympathetically. "I know it's gonna be hard, Harry. But you've got Hermione, Ron, and me on your side. Plus others we don't know about yet. And Dumbledore."

At Dumbledore's name, Harry seemed to slump even more. "I'm not so sure about Dumbledore."

Jon cocked his head to the left. "What do you mean?"

"He hasn't talked to me at all. Earlier this summer, I got in trouble for…" Harry hesitated, looking at Jon, then seemed to decide it was okay to tell him. "I was walking home with my nephew, Vernon, and we were attacked by Dementors. I used the Patronus charm to fight them off," Jon's eyebrows shot up at this revelation, "and the Ministry tried to take my wand away.

"Dumbledore represented me at the trial and got the Ministry to back down, but he refused to speak to me. I have so many questions, and I can't get answers. I don't honestly think he cares."

Jon's head was spinning. _'A Patronus charm? By the summer of his fourth year? That's impressive_.' Aside from the impressive use of the Patronus charm, the Dumbledore Harry seemed to describe wasn't fitting the Dumbledore Jon had met so far. Headmaster Dumbledore cared immensely about Harry; heck, that's why Jon was there in the first place. So why wasn't Dumbledore talking to Harry when Harry clearly needed it. _'Well, doesn't matter right this minute. Just reassure Harry.'_

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry, but I have a feeling that Dumbledore cares a lot more than you're giving him credit for. I'm sure he's working on ways to help you in any way he can. Maybe he thinks that by distancing himself, he's sparing you more attention."

Harry thought for a moment. "You really believe that?"

' _You have no idea.'_ "Yeah. I do." Jon took the last spoonful of his MRE. "Well, let's hit the sack. It's late, and I suspect tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Harry nodded, and the two boys walked up the stairs towards their room. As they did, Jon was looking at Harry's back, noticing that he seemed to walk with a weight on his shoulders. _'I would tell you everything if I could. And hopefully when the truth comes out, you can forgive me for keeping you in the dark.'_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Roughly five hours later, Jon's eyes shot open. It was still dark outside, and the other boys were fast asleep. Much to Jon's surprise, Harry was sleeping soundly, instead of moaning and rolling.

As quietly as he could, Jon donned his track suit and made his way downstairs. As he was coming down the last stairs from Gryffindor Tower, he caught sight of a waft of blonde hair and an ankle disappearing around a doorway. Jon jogged to the doorway and looked down the hall.

Sure enough, there was a girl, roughly five feet tall with dirty blonde hair, pajamas with strange creatures on them, and the oddest pair of Converse Jon had ever seen. He smirked, then called in a loud whisper, "Luna!"

She kept walking down the hall, paying his call no attention. With a puzzled look on his face, Jon jogged quietly up next to her to see that her eyes were covered with a purple sleep mask. Stifling a chuckle, Jon shook his head. _'Luna Lovegood sleep walks the castle.'_ At Ilvermorny, he's had a few friends that would sleep walk, too. He paused when he realized that those people were either incredibly intelligent or haunted by something.

' _And some people just sleep walk. Doesn't mean anything, really.'_ Jon watched as Luna started walking the stairs up to the dorms of Ravenclaw tower. Shaking his head, he turned to go back towards the main entrance. ' _That girl is something else.'_

A strange sound made him pause. It sounded like stone grinding against stone. He turned around to see the stairs of the tower were moving. Up on the second flight of stairs, Luna was coming to the last two steps, walking straight into a thirty-feet or more drop to a solid marble floor.

Jon bolted to underneath where the steps were turning. "LUNA!"

The yell didn't wake the girl as she took the last two steps and fell right off the edge of the stairs. Jon thought fast, focusing as strongly as he could on Luna's falling form. " _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

After falling rapidly nearly ten feet, Luna's sleeping form started hovering gently in the air. Positioning himself underneath her, Jon lowered her gently until she was in his waiting arms. Looking down to see Luna still asleep, he looked up at the stairs and exhaled a breath he'd forgotten he was holding. ' _Who builds a castle with MOVING STAIRS!?'_

An ethereal voice broke his mental tirade of the idiot wizard that built this castle. "Hello, Jonathan."

Jon looked down at Luna's face to find her sleep mask resting over her forehead, and her large blue eyes boring into his. Still panting from his held breath, he answered. "Hey."

She looked at him concernedly. "Was I sleepwalking again?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. You fell off one of the stairs…" He chuckled nervously. "Would have made for an ugly wake up call."

Luna looked up at the stairs, then back to Jonathan. "Yes. It would have." Suddenly, she wrapped her left arm behind his neck and tucked her head back down into his chest. "This is a much better way to be woken up."

Jon's eyes bulged at the comment and was about to say something when the sound of several footprints came up behind him.

"Good Merlin!" Jon turned to see Professor Flitwick and two Ravenclaw students, Jon assumed the Prefects, standing behind him.

The girl looked at Jon. "We heard you yell. Is she okay?"

Jon nodded, keeping his voice down for the sake of the semi-sleeping Luna. "She's fine. She was sleepwalking, and the stairs…"

The girl, dark haired with a darker complexion, gasped and put her hands to her mouth, while the boy, blonde and roughly Jon's height, looked at the stairs. "Blimey," he whispered.

Professor Flitwick looked at Jon, a mix of emotions on his face. "Are you saying she fell, Mr. Lionheart?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And you caught her?" The girl asked.

Jon nodded again.

Professor Flitwick looked at Jonathan, looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Very well done, Mr. Lionheart! You've saved us all from something truly tragic."

Jon felt his face go a little red. "Thank you, sir." He looked down at Luna, still sleeping. A small smile formed on his lips. "I'm glad I was here."

Flitwick nodded. "As are we all. There will be House points for this, Mr. Lionheart, after I tell Dumbledore about this. In the meantime, we should get Miss Lovegood back to bed."

Suddenly, Luna stirred, murmuring something (Jon thought he heard the word Wrackspurt) and tightening her grip around Jonathan's neck, causing him to hunch a bit more. The dark-haired girl giggled softly.

Jonathan looked at Professor Flitwick. "I'm, umm…"

The dark-haired girl laughed softly. "Professor Flitwick, I can escort him to the dorm so we can get her into bed."

"Very well, Miss Patil. But you leave as soon as she's in bed, Mr. Lionheart."

Jon nodded. "Yes, sir."

The girl, Miss Patil, smiled at Jon. "Follow me, we'll get her back in bed." Jon followed the girl up the stairs towards the Ravenclaw common room. "By the way," she whispered. "My name is Padma. Padma Patil."

"Jonathan Lionheart."

"A pleasure." When they reached the portrait guarding the Ravenclaw common room entrance, Padma whispered the answer so Jonathan wouldn't hear it, then led him into the common room.

It was large, but dimly lit, with only a fireplace along the far left wall offering light. Padma looked at Jon. "I'll go up and make sure her dorm mates are asleep and decent, then I'll come get you." Jon nodded as she went up the stairs to the girl's dorms. It was only about a minute before Padma came back down. "It's clear. Come on, let's get her settled."

Jon ascended the stairs as carefully as he could, trying not to jostle Luna too much. Padma led him into Luna's dorm room and walked over to a bed, straightening out some sheets. "Here we go."

Jon walked over and set Luna gently on the bed as Padma pulled the sheets up to Luna's chin. As soon as Jon got Luna's arm from around his neck, though, Luna started to stir and moan.

"Mmm. Mum. No… Careful. No… Dad… Help! Hurts!" Her voice got louder with every word, but she wasn't awake.

Jon looked to Padma who seemed lost as to what to do. Looking back down at Luna, Jon ran a hand over her hair and leaned over her. "Shhh. Easy, Luna. It's okay. You're safe now. Nothing's wrong."

Luna stopped rustling and settled down, her face relaxing and her breathing settling. Jon wiped some errant hairs from her face. "Sleep, Luna. Just sleep."

Padma tapped him on the shoulder. "Let's let her sleep." The two students left the dorm and stopped in the hallway outside. Padma sighed. "I didn't know it bothered her quite that badly."

Jon looked at her. "What bothers her?"

"Her mother died when she was nine. A spell gone wrong, I heard. Apparently, she was injured when it happened." She paused. "We've known for a while that she sleep walks. One of her dorm mates woke me up tonight about it. We never thought about what might be causing all this. We all just kinda thought…" She couldn't seem to finish what she wanted to say.

Jon took a guess. "You all just thought she was Loony."

Padma looked ashamed. "Yes."

"Well now you know better. Now you can make it right."

Padma nodded. "It'll take some doing to put a stop to people thinking about her like that. It doesn't help that she's as… Eccentric as she is."

Jon grinned. "Luna doesn't strike me as the kind of person to care too much about what most people think. She might be hurt by what happened, but she's got spunk."

Padma giggled. "Yes, she definitely does." She looked at Jonathan. "Thank you again, Jonathan. If it hadn't been for you…"

Jon nodded. "I know."

Padma yawned. "Well, let's get you out of here. I want to go back to sleep."

The two students chuckled as they headed for the exit to the common room. Once Jon climbed out the portrait hole of the common room, he started heading back towards the main entrance, finding most of thoughts revolving around Luna, what her story was, and why, every time she looked at him, his heart seemed to stutter.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

 _Well. Finally._

 _Again, I am so sorry it has taken this long to get this story updated. This chapter proved difficult to work, trying to determine exactly how Jon would impact everything. With more and more characters getting involved, it's getting more difficult to write something I actually like._

 _Wandless Wingardium Leviosa, huh? I know someone's either thinking it or will mention it, but yes, Jon cast that charm without a wand. No, he's not more powerful than Harry, just more experienced. There is going to be a pretty epic demonstration of this in the future._

 _On that thought, does it seem like Jon never seems to catch Fred and George? There's good reason for that: writing those two terrifies me. Given enough time I can get into the mind of most of these characters, but Fred and George are complete mysteries to me. They're hilarious and a lot of people love them, so I want to do them right. So I keep postponing Jon's meeting them officially. Because I'm a coward._

 _I guess it's not really a surprise anymore that Jon and Luna are going to wind up in some kind of something. Exactly what, well, only time will tell. Yes, I realize it's an odd pairing and honestly, when I started writing this, Jon was either going to wind up with another OC (who has yet to be introduced) or no one at all. Then I just kind of found myself having this notion of Jon and Luna, two complete opposites, in some kind of relationship. Exactly what it will turn into and how long it might last, I don't know yet. It just sort of… Happened._

 _Well, as always, questions, comments, concerns, complaints and snide remarks are always welcome. Thanks for reading! And I promise the next chapter will not take nearly as long to post._


	9. Much Ado and Friendships Deepened

_Here we go with chapter 9. After several months of delay. Sorry. I do this for fun. Sometimes life says it needs to wait._

 _Thanks to riley1506106, Husker Nation and mattblue057 for the reviews! I'm glad you all like it. And again, thanks to anyone that's fav'd and subscribed._

… _.._

 _There's an elephant in the room, isn't there?_

 _So, Goose. *sigh* No, this is not a self-insertion. Yes, everyone that writes a Mary Sue says that. (And let's all be honest. This is a heck of a Mary Sue here.) But it's not a self-insertion. If it was a self-insertion, Jon would wind up with Hermione, because girls like Hermione are what I'm most attracted to. (But that would be sad and cliché, so I'm not doing that.) Not to mention it would ruin what I have planned for later…_

 _You'd have a better argument if you wanted to accuse me of turning Captain America into a teenager and throwing him into Hogwarts. That would hold some water. (I mean, you see the story pic, right?)_

 _But Jon and I are very different. Oh sure, there are bits of me in there, as I created him and I'm writing him. But he relies more upon other inspirations. I'd say that my own personality makes up, at most, 20% of Jonathan. And that's being generous._

 _Regarding Luna… And this is going to irk a few Potterheads. First, let me admit I've never seen the movies in their entirety. I've seen a lot of clips on YouTube, but that's it. That said, Evanna Lynch doesn't quite fit the Luna I imagined when I first read these books, nor since I've revisited them. Heck, how I imagined Luna didn't quite fit the description from Rowling herself!_

 _I'm not going to describe how I imagine Luna (though she doesn't look like Evanna Lynch, FYI), because the beauty of stories in written form is that, as the reader, you can imagine or cast whoever you want as a certain character. For example, Pierce Brosnan plays Sirius Black in my head. And everyone that reads this is free and clear to imagine what each character looks like. If you want to plug Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, and Evanna Lynch into this, go right ahead. If you have your own image of everyone, use that too. And if you throw away my description of Jon in favor of your own, happy days! I don't care. You are free to imagine whoever you want here._

 _So, Goose, I understand your comment. It's probably true of a lot of stories like this. (Everyone who writes a Mary Sue says the same thing.) So I don't expect to change your mind. I've offered my defense._

 _And with that out of the way, let's continue with this shameless (and sometimes poorly written) Mary Sue! Again, I only own Jonathan. Everything else belongs to JKR._

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o_

" _Depth of friendship does not depend on length of acquaintance."_

 _Rabindranath Tagore_

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o_

Hermione, Jonathan, Harry, and Ron entered the Great Hall to find it in a state of chaos, and everything seemed to revolve around the House Points counters.

Ginny walked up to the group. "Have you heard what's happened?"

Everyone shook their heads, except Jon. "No," Hermione replied. "What's going on?"

"Gryffindor earned one hundred house points in the middle of the night. No one can figure out how, and the professors aren't talking."

"One hundred bloody house points!" Ron yelled loud enough for the whole hall to hear.

Jonathan glared at Ron. "Language." Looking back to his left, Jon could see McGonagall and Flitwick huddled together, looking at the crowd of students as if they were trying to figure out what to do.

"Hey, Jon's always up like two hours before anyone else." Ron blurted. "What happened?"

Jon turned his attention back to the group. "What makes you think I know?"

"Because you're the bloody loon that's always up before dawn to go for a run. Whatever earned us a hundred points had to do with you."

Jon opened his mouth to respond when two voices came from behind him.

"Ah. There you all are."

"Been looking for you lot all morning."

"At least, since we've been up."

Fred and George Weasley came up behind the group, settling on either side of Jon. The twin to Jon's right held out his hand. "Fred Weasley."

To his left, the other extended his hand. "George Weasley."

Jon crossed his arms and shook both their hands at the same time. "Jonathan Lionheart."

The twins grinned. "So, you've seen what's happened?"

Hermione nodded. "What we don't know is how."

Fred shrugged. "Not sure. But be warned; Malfoy's on the warpath."

"Says he's gonna give Harry here detention for a month for cheating the system." George offered.

Ron huffed. "I'd love to see him try. Harry had nothing to do with it. I think it has something to do with Jon."

George looked at Jon. "Really?"

Jonathan glared at Ron. "Even if I was involved, I wouldn't say."

Another loud commotion could be heard just outside the entrance to the Great Hall. Draco Malfoy, dragging what looked to be a third of Slytherin house behind him, stormed into the Hall, shouting various accusations as he approached.

"They can't win the House Cup on merit, so now they have McGonagall giving them house points for nothing!"

Harry groaned. "Brilliant…"

Jon and the group turned to see Malfoy and his group of Slytherins stop about ten feet away. "Managed to get Professor McGonagall to give you house points for nothing now, Potter?"

Jon gave a humored huff. "Draco, your mouth is movin'. Might wanna see to that."

Draco flushed and a few other students chuckled. Squaring his shoulders, Draco opened his mouth to respond before another voice interrupted.

"Suggesting that a head of house would award house points without merit is a serious accusation, Mr. Malfoy." To the right, Flitwick and McGonagall stood looking like referees before a boxing match. "A very serious allegation, indeed. I hope you have some evidence to support your suggestion."

Draco looked flustered. "Well, I don't see any other ways Gryffindor could have earned so many house points."

McGonagall stiffened. "Careful, Mr. Malfoy. Your position as prefect does no allow you to throw baseless accusations towards professors. Certainly not heads of house."

There was a sudden silence in the hall before an annoying _'hem, hem'_ from behind the Slytherins caught everyone's attention. Standing there looking like she was seeing something amusing was Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape standing to her left. "Still, it is curious for a house to jump so high in points, with no explanation, after having lost so many points in one day."

"I too would enjoy an explanation." Snape drawled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon could have sworn he saw McGonagall roll her eyes. "I can assure both of you that the points were justly earned, and were awarded by myself, Professor Flitwick and Headmaster Dumbledore."

The sickeningly sweet smile of Umbridge got even wider, enhancing her toad-like appearance. "That still does not explain the reason. WHY were the points awarded?"

Jon tensed. He didn't care if anyone knew about his part, but he was worried about Luna. From what he was able to tell from how people called her "Loony," she wasn't exactly treated nicely; and if her sleepwalking habit got out, the mocking she currently got would only get worse. Not to mention if someone wanted to be a real bully, catching her sleepwalking would make for a juicy opportunity…

"It was decided," Professor Flitwick started to squeak, "that given the nature of how the points were earned, the students involved would decide if what happened became public knowledge."

"Ahh. And pray, who were the students involved?" Snape asked.

Professor McGonagall looked at Jon. Jon sighed. "I'm one of them. And I would like to keep the incident under wraps."

"Told you so," Ron muttered under his breath, Hermione elbowing him in the ribs.

Umbridge, impossibly, widened her smile. "Who was the other student involved?"

Jon squared his jaw, not saying a word.

Snape began to look angry. "Mr. Lionheart, tell us who the other student was."

"No, sir."

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Lionheart, you will tell us who the other student was."

The Gryffindor's in the hall erupted in anger at the loss of house points. Harry came up next to Jon. "You're gonna have to tell them, or Snape'll take away all the points and then some."

"Let him. I'm trying to protect someone."

"Who?"

Above the ruckus that had become the Great Hall, no one seemed to notice a pale blonde haired witch that managed to work her way into the middle of the near riotous group. She made her way over to Professor Flitwick and the two had a small conversation. Jon couldn't hear any of what was being said, but from the sudden sag of the small professor's shoulders, he could guess Luna was saying something like it didn't matter if people knew.

Flitwick held his wand up to his hand, magically amplifying his voice above the crowd. "Everyone settle down. The other student involved has decided she doesn't mind if what happened is known." The crowd went quiet and all eyes turned on Luna.

Draco laughed. "It would be the _Loony…"_

Jon took one step towards Draco, causing Harry and Ron to grab the back of his robes, whispering "don't do it" and "you can't."

It was McGonagall that cut Draco off. "Mr. Malfoy, if you finish that sentence you'll earn detention for the week. As it is, fifteen points from Slytherin."

Padma Patil had worked her way to Luna, wrapping her in a half hug. "Are you sure, Luna?"

Luna nodded, her usual dreamy expression on her face. "I'm sure. Besides, everyone will find out someday anyway."

McGonagall looked at Jon. "Mr. Lionheart?"

Jon looked at Luna. Most people he knew that slept walked were embarrassed by it. Luna didn't seem to care, and that struck Jon. She already had people calling her nasty names, and he was sure, worse. Why would she open herself up like this? Did she just not care? _'Kudos to her if that's the case, but still… A person can only take so much.'_

Unfortunately for Jon, with Luna willing to tell what happened, he didn't have many choices. He could say no and keep the secret, but at what cost? Snape and Umbridge were already problematic, and Jon had promised Dumbledore he'd do what he could to keep a low profile. He'd already sort of failed on that front and letting the whole school know he'd saved Luna wouldn't help much there, either.

He looked Luna in the eyes one last time. She gave a half smile and a nod. He sighed. "Alright. If Luna's okay with it, so am I."

McGonagall nodded. "Very well. Early this morning, Miss Lovegood was walking the castle, making her way…"

' _Hem, hem.'_ "Excuse me, but why was Miss Lovegood out of her dorm past curfew?"

"I don't do it on purpose, Professor. I sleepwalk, you see. We've tried different remedies, but it can't seem to be helped. Besides, the extra walking is good exercise, and I don't miss out on sleep."

Draco looked like he was about to laugh until he saw Jon standing squarely next to him, his right hand clenched in a fist and cocked back for a swing. Given the size difference between them, Draco swallowed nervously instead.

Most of the students just gawked, wise enough not to giggle. Umbridge looked at Luna like the girl had two heads, while McGonagall continued. "Miss Lovegood's sleepwalking habits have been known by the headmaster and staff for some time. Usually, she is not out of her dorm for very long, but according to Prefect Patil, Luna had been out of her dorm for some time. Professor Flitwick and Miss Patil had begun searching the castle to retrieve Miss Lovegood."

"And Lionheart's part in all of this?" Snape asked.

"Mr. Lionheart discovered Luna in the main hallway, making her way towards Ravenclaw tower." Flitwick began. "As she began to ascend the stairs, they began to reposition themselves. As Miss Lovegood was not awake, she was not aware." He swallowed. "She stepped off the top of the second flight of stairs and fell to the floor."

The crowd started murmuring. A few girls gasped, and Padma grabbed onto Luna a bit tighter. Even Ron reacted. "Blimey."

"Mr. Lionheart saved Miss Lovegood with a quick bit of thinking and solid spell work. Had he not been there, or been as responsive as he had been, I'm afraid the mood today would be very different." McGonagall finished. "That is the reason for the jump in house points; Jonathan Lionheart saved a students life."

Gryffindor house erupted into cheers and Jon got several claps on the back.

McGonagall leveled her eyes on Umbridge. "Does that answer your question sufficiently?"

Umbridge squinted, seeming to look for some reason to find a fault. "What was Mr. Lionheart doing outside of his dorm after curfew? Surely he doesn't sleepwalk as well?"

"Mr. Lionheart requested permission to leave the castle in the early morning for a chance to run, as was part of his routine at Ilvermorny. The request was granted with rules that he has abided thus far."

Umbridge frowned. "Very well."

Snape looked at Jon with a look that couldn't be read before turning on his heel and making for the professor's tables. Flitwick decided to end the gathering. "Now if we're all quite finished with this fuss, you don't have much time left for breakfast. I suggest you all eat as quickly as you can. I grant ten points to Jonathan for his attempt to protect another student from ridicule, even though he was forced to relent in the end. And if we hear, or hear of, anyone mocking Miss Lovegood for what happened, there will be detention and a loss of house points."

The crowd began to break up as the students made their way back to their various house tables.

Jon found himself surrounded by Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins. "That was brilliant, Jon," Harry said.

Jon rolled his eyes. "Much ado about nothing. Anyone else would have done it."

"Mr. Lionheart!" Professor McGonagall called out. "Come here, please."

Jon walked over to where McGonagall and Flitwick were standing, stopping at a relaxed attention, hands behind his back. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I wanted personally to thank you for saving the school from a tragedy. I know that Luna is not the most popular student in school, but many of the professors are quite fond of her."

"It was nothing, ma'am. I'm sure any other student would have done the same."

A look crossed Flitwick's face that Jon was pretty sure meant he wasn't convinced. "All the same, Mr. Lionheart. Thank you."

"And I can assure you," McGonagall continued. "We will be paying attention to make sure Miss Lovegood is not treated poorly for this. Sadly, we can't stop everything, but we will do the best we can."

Jon nodded. "Thank you, Professor. Is there anything else?"

"No, that's all. Please, grab something to eat."

Jon nodded, stopping himself from saluting, _again,_ but did spin on his heels in a military turn and started heading for the Gryffindor table.

Professor Flitwick watched Jon walk away with a curious look on his face. "Do you get the feeling there's more to him than we know?"

A sad look crossed over McGonagall's face. "I know there's more to him than we are aware."

"Do you think he's dangerous? He does seem to have something of a temper."

McGonagall shook her head as the two professors made for their seats at the staff table. "I have no doubt that he is dangerous, Filius. But I also have no doubt that he is good."

Jon sat back down next to Harry, pouring himself a cup of coffee and grabbing a bowl for some oatmeal.

"What did Professor McGonagall want?" Hermione asked.

Jon shrugged. "Just to thank me."

"Well, you did save another students life," Harry said.

Jon shrugged. "It's not that big a deal, really. She fell, I caught her. You'd have done the same. Any other student would have done the same. Well, except maybe Draco."

Ron shook his head. "I don't think any Slytherin would have saved her."

Jon set his coffee mug down. "I don't think that's true. I noticed only about a third of Slytherin was with Draco. The rest sat down to eat, not seeming to care." Jon turned and looked at the Slytherin table, finding clearly the division between what appeared to be three separate groups.

One group rotated around Malfoy. They seemed to hang on his every word, completely obsessed with him as if he was famous. _'I need to learn more about his family. I know they have pull in the Ministry. I need to know just how much.'_ Some of the girls in the group looked timid when it came to Draco, but Jon couldn't tell if this was because they liked him, or if they were afraid of him.

The second group, the middle of the table, seemed completely unconcerned with Draco Malfoy and his affairs. There didn't seem to be a group leader, but the most conversation seemed to buzz around two girls. One had blonde, wavy hair. Where Luna's hair was a pale, dirty blonde that appeared straggly, this girl's hair was golden, wavy and smooth, coming down to just past her shoulders. She had a striking face that consisted of a strong jawline, a pointed but fair nose, and lips colored in a dark red lipstick. She was almost a classic femme fatale, except she looked more severe than seductive as if she was somehow above everything and everyone.

The girl next to her was completely different. She had dark skin, most likely of African descent, and it glowed of a bronze tone. Very curly and shiny black hair bounced with every move of her head. Her face was rounded and soft, but very beautiful. While her blonde haired friend looked suited to standing in a museum as an art piece that never moved, this girl was one you took places and lived life vibrantly. A wide smile and a loud voice with a flirty tone, she was fire while the blonde girl was ice. While her antics usually earned a side-ways glare from the blonde girl, occasionally a slight smirk would grace the blonde girl's lips, telling Jon they were most likely friends, and the closest the middle group had to leaders.

The third group was even more different. While the second group was lively, and Draco's group was disruptive, the last group was quiet. Jon couldn't tell if these were the misfits of Slytherin, or if they were more studious than the other groups since several of them had textbooks open next to their plates. This group seemed to have a leader. Sitting at the end of the table, elbows on the table with her head resting on her hands, was a serious looking red-haired girl. She wasn't as cold as the blonde girl from the middle group; instead, she looked calculating, eyes flicking to each person on the table, watching their movements and listening to what was said.

Her red hair wasn't as loud as the Weasley kids; it was more cinnamon than fire. Cut short, her hair ended just past her jawline, accentuating her lean and angular face. Her nose was thin and straight, and her lips, while thin, seemed to usually sit in a mild pout, but gave way to either nervous looking smiles, or bright beaming smiles if someone said something she found funny.

She seemed to Jon to be an enigma; one minute reserved and calculating, the other smiling and jovial. She struck Jon as the kind of girl that knew everything about everyone in her own house, and possibly even the entire school. She glanced over at Jon and the two locked eyes as if each were trying to discover each other's secrets. Eventually, someone at her table said something and caught her attention, a smile crossing her face before she broke into a fit of giggles.

"Oi, loony. What are you staring at?"

Jonathan turned back to Ron. "I was looking at the Slytherin table. Trying to get a measure of the students. I stand by my statement. Excepting Draco, I'm sure many of the Slytherins would have saved Luna's life."

Ron shook his head and muttered something that sounded like the word mental.

Hermione shook her head. "Well, I for one agree with Jon. Not all the Slytherins can be as bad as Malfoy. I think the rivalry goes so deep, though, that no one in either house is going to try and break the division."

"Maybe it could be Jon to do it." George quipped from beside Hermione.

Jon smirked. "Well, it does seem us Yanks are always sorting out you Brit's troubles."

Hermione glared. "Prat."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Morning classes had gone well, for Jon at least. Double Charms and Transfiguration had lead to Jon receiving high amounts of praise from Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, being given much less homework than the rest of the class, and earning the ire of one curly-haired witch.

"You can't possibly be this good already. You're only fifteen! It's almost as if you could teach the class." Hermione whined as herself, Jon and Neville made their way towards the Great Hall for lunch.

Jon shrugged innocently. "I told you, everything we were taught was enriched. Wizards were being drafted into the war at," Jon swallowed, trying to come up with a suitable number, "sixteen years old. We needed to be ready. There's plenty I don't know. We completely skipped on Magical History, and Care of Magical Creatures was thrown to the wind, too. There's plenty I am way behind on."

Hermione looked at Jon as if she was looking for cracks in drywall. "Well, I suppose that makes sense. From what you've told me so far, the war you suffered was terrible."

Jon nodded. "I'd like to avoid another if I can." Hermione looked pensive for a moment. "Hey," Jon asked. "Where did Harry and Ron go? They bolted out of Charms like two prairie dogs runnin' from a coyote."

Hermione and Neville chuckled. "They needed to go to the library to finish their essay on potions. The one you apparently did on the fly in detention with Professor Snape."

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh. You're not going with?"

A flash of anger crossed Hermione's face. "No, I don't think so. Ron can handle himself."

"What about Harry?" Neville asked.

Hermione looked torn. "I'd help Harry, sure, but…"

"Ron did something again." Jon supplied.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Yes. In charms class."

Jon looked puzzled. "When?"

"Oh, when Professor Flitwick had you demonstrate the summoning charm."

"Was this about house elves again? I heard something about it yesterday."

She shook her head. "It doesn't really matter. I just want to be away from him for a bit."

Neville chuckled. "He's a bit stubborn, sometimes."

Jon frowned. "And insensitive."

"He's not always like that, just… Sometimes."

Jon just shrugged. "Well, that's something, I guess. Hey, I need to swing up to the dorm and grab the books for the rest of the day."

Neville nodded. "Okay. We'll save a seat for you."

"Thanks." Jon started making his way back up to Gryffindor tower, going through the crowd like a salmon upriver. Up the stairs and around the halls, he was just about to make the portrait of the fat lady when a sultry voice came from behind him.

"It's not polite to stare, you know."

The suddenness of the voice startled Jon, and he spun around, reaching for his wand only to find the redheaded Slytherin girl leaning in the corner of two walls, half hidden in shadow. His reaction caused her eyebrows to go up. "Easy, cowboy."

Jon frowned, letting his arms hang at his sides. "It's not nice to sneak up on people, either." Where she was standing made Jon think over the last few moments. There was no way he could have not seen her, even in the shadow. "Where did you come from?"

She smiled coyly. "I can avoid being seen, if I wish." She stepped towards him, bringing them within arms reach of each other. She stood about a head shorter than Jon and found herself looking up to meet him in the eyes. "I'm still waiting on that apology."

"I thought we were even, what with you sneaking up on me."

She pouted. "No. No, my sneaking up on you was from your lack of paying attention. Your staring at me was simply rude. There is a difference, you see."

Jon frowned again. "Not sure I see it that way."

She _tsked_ twice. "Well, I suppose I can't blame you. American manners and all."

Jon glared. "You come here for something, or just to throw insults? I'm kinda in a hurry." He started to turn away from her, but she grabbed his arm.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I was only curious. I came to try and get to know you."

Jon turned. "Get to know me?"

She smiled again, a sort of dazzling smile that Jon suspected put many boys under a spell. "Yes. You're an oddity. The first American student in Hogwarts, who seems to be as smart if not smarter than the great Hermione Granger." Her voice carried a note of jealousy around Hermione's name as if she was consistently finding herself second to the bushy haired Gryffindor. "I wanted to see what you were like."

"You wanted to see what I was like, or you wanted to see if you could learn anything useful." Her eyes went wide for a second before her playful, slightly seductive mask came back. Jon continued. "See, I figure you're the girl in Slytherin that knows everything about everyone. I thought at first it was just in your own house, but now I think it's the whole school. So the question is, are you a gossip, or do you like having things to use against people?"

For a second, there was a flicker of hurt in her eyes, before she recovered. "It's not nice to make such assumptions about a girl when you don't even know her name."

Jon realized that his theory about her earlier was right; this girl was an enigma, someone you couldn't really pin down. While he was wary of her, he had a feeling in his gut that while she was a bit sneaky, she was trustworthy. He didn't know why he felt it, he just did. Trusting his gut, he relaxed his posture a bit. "You're right. That's something I can apologize for." Jon stuck out his right hand. "I'm Jon Lionheart. Sorry for making assumptions."

Her smile widened as she shook Jon's hand. "I'm Guinevere. Guinevere Cygnus. And you're forgiven."

Jon smirked. "Still no apology for sneaking up on me, huh?"

She laughed. "Oh no. You're just going to have to learn to pay more attention. With as skilled as you seem to be, I'm sure you'll figure out a few of my secrets."

"Time will tell."

She smiled again. "Well, Jonathan. I look forward to talking to you again."

"In another hallway with no one around?"

She chuckled. "Haven't you heard? Gryffindors and Slytherins don't mingle."

"I heard something like that, but who likes to follow a crowd?"

"I'm guessing you, for one. But for now, Jon, let's keep this dark. It's more fun that way." She backed away and started going down the stairs. Jon peered around the corner to find she had completely disappeared, but he saw a quick shimmer in the light. _'Disillusionment charm. Clever.'_

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

The rest of the day's classes had gone well. A few near scuffles with Malfoy that Jon managed to keep his temper under control for, so he was counting those as wins. He had been in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione working on his History of Magic homework, but since she had gone to her dorm, Jon sat back and thought about everything he'd seen and learned.

At some point, he'd dozed off and found himself being woken to the common room door opening, and Harry clambering in. A quick look at the clock on the wall told John it was forty minutes past midnight. ' _Heck of a detention.'_

Harry looked horrible; tired and haggard from the day, but also frightened, scared, and even worse, angry. He was rubbing his right hand as he started to make his way towards the stairs, not having noticed Jon.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry jumped, grabbing a rail for support before looking over and seeing Jon. "Oh. Hey. Didn't, umm, didn't see you there."

"I figured. Didn't mean to scare you. Umbridge kept you this long for detention?"

Harry seemed to get even angrier. "And then some. She gave me detention for the rest of the week."

Jon frowned. "She got under your skin again?" Harry nodded, swallowing. Jon put his hands on his hips. "Well, that sucks. Sorry. "

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

"You hurt your hand?"

Harry seemed panicked. "Uhh. Yeah. Tripped on the way in."

Jon didn't believe it for a second but wasn't going to press. Harry seemed to hate it when people did that. "Just not your day, I guess. You get a chance to work on any homework?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It'll have to wait."

Jon shrugged. "Well, I'm no Hermione, but if you want, I was about to finish the essay for Professor Binns about the Giant Wars. It's not too hard if you want to knock it out. Or the Moonstone essay. Besides, you go to bed the way you are, you won't sleep. Better to calm down a bit. C'mon, let's knock this out."

Harry paused for a moment, then came down and plopped into a chair across the table Jon had been sitting at. "I could really use some help with the Moonstone essay."

"Easy as pie. Speaking of pie, you hungry?" Harry nodded. "Alright, I'll be right back." Jon went up into the dorm, collected two MRE's and two canteens, and then came back down, giving Harry a chicken fajita MRE. "Here you go. This one's pretty good. And some water. Sorry it's not Hogwarts quality, but the included brownie is actually really good."

Harry looked at Jon. "Thanks. Sorry to be a bother."

Jon waved him off. "You're my friend, Harry. Helping a friend ain't no bother." Harry laughed softly. Jon looked at him. "What's so funny?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but the way you talk. Things you say. Like 'ain't.' You never hear things like that here."

Jon shrugged. "Yeah, well, I've heard quite a few strange words in my short time here so far."

Harry tapped the MRE with his wand, heating it up, and then peeled it open. "Smells really good, actually." He took a bite. "Not bad."

Jon grinned. "That's one of the newer ones. The last one I had was a bit older, not as nice. Figured I'd spare you the torture."

The two boys ate in silence for a couple of minutes before Harry looked up at Jon. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Where are you from, exactly? I know America, but America is kinda big."

"Oh. Southwest Texas, not too far from San Antonio, I guess. My dad… He was a Commander in the MACUSA Rangers, so he wanted to be close to their headquarters. We had a house out in the sage, away from everything and everyone. Gorgeous place, hilly brush land. My family owned land in Texas I guess since the No-Maj Civil War. I grew up there…" Jon took a bite out of his lasagna.

Harry looked at him. "How old were you, when…"

"My parents died?" Jon supplied. Harry nodded. "Eleven. They were… They were killed."

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

 _There wasn't much Jon could see from the small gap of the porch and the ground. But he could see his mother laying on the ground, and his father on his knees, trembling._

" _I'm going to give you two more chances, Lionheart." A hand reached down and grabbed his mother by the hair, yanking her up. "Will you support our cause?"_

 _There were whispered words that Jon couldn't hear before an enraged voice yelled, "ENOUGH! Will you support us?"_

" _No."_

 _A pause, a blast, and his mother's body fell in the dirt. Tears flowed from Jon's eyes as he heard his father cry out in anguish._

 _A pair of boots stood in front of Jon's father. "Last chance, Lionheart. You still have your son. We will find him. If you cooperate, we'll let you keep him."_

 _Jon's father looked towards the house as if he knew Jon was watching. His pain filled face turned to one of stone and determination._

 _The was a laugh. "Do you really want your son to see you die like this? To die for nothing? I will make sure he knows nothing about you. When I am done, he will never know you existed."_

 _Jon's father stared at his captor. "He will know that his father died to keep him safe. That his father stood when others would not. He will always remember that his father loves him. And before you kill me, he will know to never give up." With a flash Jon's father had raised his right hand, a wand appearing from thin air. A curse shot from the wand into the man standing in front of Jon's father. A scream came from that wizard._

 _For a moment, Jon thought his father might survive, that he could still have a family, until out from the barn across the yard, he heard a voice; "Avada Kedavra!"_

 _A green flash, and Jon's father fell to the ground._

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

"I was rescued not long after by the man that would become the headmaster of Ilvermorny, Tobias Webster. He brought seven Rangers to see if he could save my family. After my parents were killed, the Commandant of the Rangers pressed for MACUSA to go to war. I spent the next few years… At Ilvermorny. An orphan."

It wasn't a story Jon often told. Most people knew it and never bothered him about it. He couldn't remember the entire night, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. But over time more and more of the memory came to him, usually in dreams. Which is why he ran.

Harry was staring at his half-eaten MRE. "Sometimes I wonder which is worse." He said quietly.

Jon tilted his head. "If which is worse?"

"Knowing your parents or not."

"You never knew yours?"

Harry nodded slowly. "No. Voldemort killed them when I was a baby." Harry told Jon about his parents, a bit about the First Wizarding War, and how his mom was killed trying to save him.

Jon looked at Harry. "I didn't know, Harry. I'm sorry."

Harry looked at Jon, a hint of a smile on his face. "You know, you're only the second person to say you're sorry for me that I didn't feel was trying to patronize me."

"Who was the first?"

"Hermione."

Jon nodded. "Yeah, she seems the genuine type."

Harry nodded. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Yeah."

"Do you ever wonder if maybe people are put into your life for a reason?"

Jon smiled. "I don't wonder, I know. My mother made sure I knew that the people that came into my life always had a reason. Good or bad, each person is special, and so is their reason for being."

Harry smiled. "I like that." He looked at Jon. "I'm glad we're friends. It feels like… I finally have someone who can understand where I'm coming from." He looked down. "I know Hermione tries. And Ron does, too. But everyone else just sees The Boy Who Lived. They always seem to miss the boy that is living."

"Well, no offense, but you're just not that big a deal in the States." Jon said with a grin.

Harry looked up and then started laughing. He got Jon laughing too, and the two boys spent a few moments just laughing for no reason in the presence of a friend.

When they calmed down, Jon looked at Harry. "Alright, that's enough pushing it off. Let's get this essay of yours wrapped up so we can get some sleep."

o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o

 _Well, there's chapter 9._

 _I had a few suggestions to get some members of Slytherin house involved in the story, and I liked the idea. It's a slow plugin, and one of these characters is an OC, but Slytherin house isn't really that deep in established characters, so I figure making an OC or two isn't really making a mess, just fulfilling a plot idea._

 _I am sorry this took so long to update. I got busier than I expected in the real world and it created something of a writer's block. It took me forever to make an update I liked, and this was the completion of those efforts._

 _I would like to address something I've noticed. There was a story I was reading, Harry Potter and the Slytherin Ice Queen. It's a really great story written by Hugo L.R. Reed, but he's not going to update it anymore because of some really crappy reviews._

 _Look, I get it. We go through these thousands of pages of fanfiction and we all find stories we think are either silly or poorly written, or we just don't like. And each person has a different definition of what they like and don't. I guess my biggest question is this; if you don't like it, just don't say something. If you see a story you don't like, just roll your eyes and browse away for another. You don't need to put someone down._

 _Constructive criticism is one thing. "Hey, you have a lot of spelling mistakes. Download Grammarly, it will help. Keep writing, I like the story." That constructive. You pointed out a problem, offered a solution, then offered praise. Constructive._

 _I won't stop writing because someone doesn't like my story. (Sorry Goose.) I write for my own please, a way to escape the real world for a few hours and recharge. I share in case others might like my stuff. Many fanfic writers are like that. Others take this very seriously._

 _My point, I guess, is this. If you don't like something, fine. You're entitled to not like it. But throwing out bad reviews does no one any good. And it ends up depriving people of really neat stories that they enjoy reading._

 _That's all, I guess. Hope you like this update, sorry it took so long, and have a fun week._

 _Oh, in the Columbo, just one more thing._

 _I'm considering changing the name of this story, if I can. The current title doesn't really seem to fit it, I guess. I'm not really sure. If you care, let me know what you think. Thanks!_


	10. Troubling Problems

_Well, here we go with Chapter 10. Whew, what a ride._

 _Before I get too deep, I'd like to thank Jason Howlett and luciemalfoy'sdaughter for the epic reviews. You guys made me make some time out of my life to write the next chapter, so thank you and I hope this next piece is an enjoyable as you've come to expect._

 _Speaking of luciemalfoy'sdaughter, she's written a pretty amazing fic called Soul in a Locket. It's a pretty unique story, very well written with, to me at least, a very original OC with a unique story arc inside the Potter-verse. You all should check it out, it's the ._

 _And now that I've annoyed you with another Guy Fieri reference, let's get to the story, yes?_

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o_

" _A true Friend advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a Friend unchangeably."_

 _William Penn_

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o_

The rest of the week went by in something of a blur. The homework assignments that the professors handed the students became so numerous and demanding that even Jon began to feel stressed about the load. Hermione, as Jon discovered, lived in a constant state of stress regarding her homework and readings. Regardless, the two students found a way to work together and help Harry and Ron along as best as they could; however, with Harry's detention with Umbridge and Ron excusing himself for some mysterious reason, the progress was slow going.

On Friday morning, Harry, Jon, Hermione and Ron were sitting at the Gryffindor table for breakfast with Ginny and Neville. The "Golden Trio" looked exhausted. Jon knew the detentions with Umbridge were keeping Harry up late, but Hermione and Ron didn't have a reason that Jon knew of. He looked at Hermione over his giant horned coffee mug. "Hermione?"

She looked at him and yawned. "Yes?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted."

She shrugged. "Well, with school work and helping Harry and Ron, plus prefect duties and that hats I'm making for the elves, I don't have a lot of time left for sleep. Not all of us are okay with four or five hours of sleep."

Jon looked at her puzzled. 'I'm sorry, hats for the elves?"

"NO!" Ron bellowed, spitting bits of biscuit everywhere. 'Don' ashk her 'bouttha! She nevr shtop!"

Hermione, Harry, Jon, Ginny and Neville glared at Ron. "Ron, if you don't stop spitting food everywhere, I'll write to mum and she'll send you a howler." Ginny hissed.

Ron looked horrified. "You wouldn't?"

As Ginny continued to scold Ron, Harry looked over at Jon. "Hermione knits hats for the house elves that work the castle because she wants to set them free. She hates that they're slaves and she's trying to exploit the one loophole that frees them from servitude."

"It's not an exploitation of a loophole if it's the right thing to do!" Hermione said. "What do you think, Jon?"

Under the stares of Hermione, Harry, Neville, Ginny and Ron, Jon simply shrugged. "Well, we don't have house elves in the States."

Jaws around the group dropped, Hermione's in glee and Ron's in disbelief. "No house elves?" they all asked.

"Who does the cooking and cleaning for the rich families, then?" Ron asked.

Jon shrugged. "Umm. Magic?" Jon chuckled, continuing. "When the Declaration of Independence was written, the idea of outlawing families from owning house elves started to float around. When the Revolutionary War ended, MACUSA made it official. A lot of it was pride; magical America wanted to be better than Non-Magical America by freeing its slaves. It's been that way ever since."

"America isn't perfect, by any means, but there's a lot of folks that try to make Magical America as morally correct as possible. For the most part, they outnumber those that fight against it."

Hermione looked victorious. "See!? See!?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hermione, we see. But that's America, and they're weird…"

The table lurched suddenly, and Ron howled in pain. Ginny sat across the table, glaring at him with murder in her eyes.

Jon shook his head. "Well, I'm not sure what the rules are for house elves earning freedom, but I'm always fond of a little rebellion to earn liberty for someone."

Hermione beamed. "I had a feeling you'd agree with me."

The windows to the Great Hall burst open and dozens of owls started flying in, delivering letters to various students in the hall. Most surprising was when a large Great Horned Owl landed in front of Jon with two letters addressed to him. Eyebrows raised, Jon reached forward and took the letters, giving the owl a nice chunk of bacon before he left.

Jon looked at the letters and found one was addressed from Tobias Webster, which gave Jon a boost. The other letter surprised him the most when he saw who sent it:

 _MACUSA Embassy, London_

 _Ambassador Serenity Floretine_

 _24 Grosvenor Square, Mayfair, London, W1A1AE, UK_

He opened the letter and read it intently.

 _Mr. Lionheart,_

 _I hope that this letter finds you well at Hogwarts. My name is Serenity Florentine, and I am the new MACUSA Ambassador to the British Ministry of Magic._

 _It is my hope and the hope of MACUSA that after the war we have all suffered back home, we may be able to build stronger bonds of friendship with other magical nations and help prevent the same atrocities from occurring in other countries._

 _I wanted to personally write to you to let you know this embassy has been opened, and we are here for anything you may need. Other embassies have also been opened in Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg, Athens, and Rome._

 _MACUSA has a keen interest in your progress and well being as our first foreign exchange student. If there is anything you need during your time at Hogwarts, please do not hesitate to write or visit. Our offices are incorporated with the Non-Magical U.S. Embassy, the address again is:_

 _24 Grosvenor Square_

 _Mayfair, London,_

 _W1A1AE, UK_

 _Again, if you ever have need of the aid of my office, please don't hesitate to reach out. We want to help you make the best of your time at Hogwarts._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Serenity Florentine_

 _MACUSA Ambassador to England_

Jon wasn't sure whether to be impressed or concerned. MACUSA had never gone to such lengths to cooperate with other nations. After glancing back over the letter, Jon was convinced of his original interpretation: MACUSA now considers Voldemort a legitimate threat, and is making their own moves to counter him, and prevent him from making a direct move against America. The embassies now opened in other countries told Jon MACUSA intended to form a coalition against Voldemort, since MACUSA didn't have the strength to fight alone.

Jon suspected the letter from Tobias would shed a bit more light on the current state of affairs, so that would have to be read later.

"Letter from your family here in England?" Harry asked, jolting Jon from his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, no. From the new MACUSA Ambassador to Britain, actually."

This caught Hermione's attention. "MACUSA Ambassador? That's never happened before."

Jon nodded. "Nope. It's kind of a shock."

"What did they say?" Hermione asked.

"Just letting me know the embassy was open, and if I needed anything, to let them know. They're apparently very interested in how I do here. If I had to guess, they're probably looking into some kind of student exchange program with your Ministry of Magic."

Hermione chewed on a piece of toast thoughtfully. "Well, that would certainly be interesting. If you're any indication of a normal Ilvermorny education, the classes and programs would be very interesting…"

Hermione started mumbling to herself about the different things she could learn in America, and Jon and Harry grinned, thinking that only Hermione could get excited about learning more while currently drowning in homework assignments.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon and Hermione were walking down the halls of Hogwarts to meet up with Harry and Ron for lunch, with Hermione talking about Ron and Harry's study habits.

"Harry at least tries to take his studies seriously, but Ron couldn't possibly be bothered. And he always drags Harry into his horrible study habits."

Jon had learned a lot of things about this group of kids over his first week at Hogwarts. One of the things he learned was that Hermione complained about Ron. A lot.

"And if it isn't enough that he slacks off so completely," she continued, "He constantly asks to borrow my work, so he can play catch up. Honestly, I've half a mind to say no to him. I don't think it's ethical for a prefect to give him their homework."

Jon nodded. "It really isn't."

"But he _is_ my friend, and Harry's. He'd cause a terrible fuss if I cut him off like that. Not to mention he'd fail his classes, too."

It was a predicament. One Jon was getting tired of listening to. "Well, if I were you, I'd have a serious talk with him about it. Warn him that unless he improves, you will cut him off. Offer to help him improve, but don't do anything… What in the blazes?"

As the two students rounded a corner, there was a scuffle in the main hall. A group of first year students were tussling, throwing punches and rolling around on the ground.

Hermione gasped. "Merlin's Beard!"

As she dashed towards the fray, Jon followed closely behind in case she needed the help. There didn't seem to be any prefects or professors around, which struck Jon as very strange. The main hallway should have more supervision than this…

"Break it up, right this minute!" Hermione yelled, pushing through the crowd and grabbing students and separating them. No one was helping her, and she only had so many hands. "Jonathan! A little help!?"

Pushing through the crowd like a bodyguard, Jon shoved his way to the core of the fight, where a young Slytherin student was pounding on a Gryffindor Jon recognized. "Euan!"

Euan was the smaller of the two students and was losing the fight badly. With a split bottom lip, blood coming from his nose and tears coming from his eyes, Jon figured he wasn't the one to start the fight. He reached down and grabbed the Slytherin by the robes. "That's enough!"

The force he yanked the Slytherin off Euan was so sudden that the student yelped in surprise. Jon carried the student through the crowd that now parted in front of him, to the wall where the student found himself pinned and looking into the eyes of, unknown to him, a very angry Ranger.

"What. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing?" Jon growled.

The eyes of the Slytherin student couldn't were as wide as physically possible, and any traces of the fight dried up behind them. Hermione took over the crowd, unhanding the two students she had been keeping apart. "Jon, put him down."

Reluctantly, Jon let the student go, who dropped a foot and half onto his feet and then fell over. Short of a growl, Jon turned on his heel and went back to help Euan.

Hermione took up the questioning. "Who started this fight?"

Fingers from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years all pointed to the Slytherin boy still in a heap by the wall. "Fine," Hermione announced, looking at the boy. "You come here, we're going to your head of house. Now, who else was fighting?"

As Hermione dealt with the crowd that had been fighting, Jon was kneeling over Euan. "Euan, you with me?" Euan groaned, trying to sit up. Jon pushed him back down gently. "I know the feeling, buddy, but you need to lay still until I can look at you, okay?" Jon pulled out his wand and started going through a few diagnostic spells, patting Euan's shoulder. "Just stay still, buddy. I'll patch you up. Take it easy."

Each pass over Euan made Jon's blood boil more and more. The boy had a broken nose, two cracked teeth, a serious black eye coming up on his left side, and several bruised ribs; two ribs were fractured, Jon guessed from getting kicked.

"Hermione." Jon growled out as he reached into his bag for the first aid supplies that he always kept with him.

Hermione came over and knelt next to him. "How is he?"

"He's got a broken nose, some cracked teeth, and some cracked ribs." Jon looked over his shoulder at the Slytherin student who withered even more. "This was way more than a bully picking on another student. This was an outright attack. You need to find out why."

Hermione nodded as more student came plodding into the hall. Harry and Ron pushed their way to the front of the crowd. "Bloody hell." Ron mumbled.

Jon pulled a couple of vials out of his first aid kit, plus some bandages and wraps. "Ron, go get Professors McGonagall and Snape. Tell them there's been a fight. Now!" Ron spun and started running. Jon looked around and found a simple wooden bench a few feet away. "Harry, bring that bench over here." Jon looked back at Hermione. "Y'all have a medical wing, right?" Hermione nodded. "Good. We'll take him there in a couple minutes."

As Harry brought the bench, Jon gave Euan the two vials. "Here, take these. One's a pain potion, the other will stop your bleeding." Euan swallowed, then coughed roughly. "Yeah, they taste pretty bad." Conjuring a white sheet to cover Euan, Jon continued. "I've got to wrap your ribs, okay? The only way I know how to heal them will hurt a lot, so I'm not gonna do that. But I need to wrap them, so I'm gonna cut through your robes, okay?" Euan groaned, but nodded.

Using magic to speed the process, Jon had Euan wrapped tightly by the time Harry brought the bench over. "Thanks, Harry." Pointing his wand at the bench, Jon transfigured the bench into a simple stretcher long enough to fit Euan so he'd be completely supported. Vanishing the large white sheet, Jon looked at Harry. "Grab him be the shoulders, gently, and help me set him on the stretcher." Harry nodded and the two boys lifted Euan onto the stretcher as Professor McGonagall and Snape came rushing down the halls, Ron behind them.

"What on earth is going on?" McGonagall asked, a look of horror on her face.

Hermione walked up to her, the young Slytherin in tow. "There was a large fight between several students from all the houses, though it started between Euan Abercrombie and Murtagh Randall. We still don't know why. Euan is badly hurt; Jon and Harry are taking him to the medical wing."

McGonagall, Snape and Hermione started talking among themselves. Jon looked at Harry. "Take the front and lead the way. I don't know where to go." The two boys lifted Euan and started making their way to the stairs up to the medical wing when they were stopped by Dolores Umbridge.

' _Hem, hem.'_ "What is the meaning of this?" She asked sweetly.

"We're taking Euan to the medical wing." Harry answered. "He's been hurt badly."

"And why exactly was he hurt?"

Jon, who was already struggling to keep his temper under control, lost what was left of his patience. "We don't have time to tell you! You want to know, go ask Prefect Granger. She saw everything. This is a medical emergency, so step aside." He nudged Harry over with the stretcher and the two boys shoved past Umbridge, running up the stairs with Euan before she could get out another word.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

It was halfway through lunch when Madam Pomfrey stepped out from behind the curtain wall concealing Euan's hospital bed. Jon had spent the entire time pacing back and forth, trying everything he could think of to keep reign in his temper. When Madam Pomfrey appeared, he stepped right up to her. "How is he?"

"He's going to be just fine. Your diagnosis was spot on, Mr. Lionheart; very well done. I've healed his ribs and his nose, and you stopped the bleeding. He's still going to be sore for a few days, but a complete recovery is expected. That was quick thinking, Mr. Lionheart."

Jon nodded. "Thank you. Is he awake?"

Pomfrey shook her head. "No, he's asleep. I'll be releasing him to his dorm tonight if all things go as they should."

"Okay. Can you please let me know when you release him? I'd like to talk him back."

She smiled. "I'll write you a slip for permission." She turned and walked towards her desk.

Jon sat down heavily next to Harry. "That Randall kid better get a serious punishment for this."

Harry nodded. "I hope so. I wonder why the fight started?"

Jon shook his head. "I don't know, I never heard."

The doors to the hospital wing opened, and Professors McGonagall and Snape came in, with Hermione and Murtagh Randall behind them.

McGonagall spoke first. "How is he doing?"

"Madam Pomfrey said he's going to be alright. A little sore, but okay."

McGonagall nodded. "That is an immense relief. Is he awake?"

Jon shook his head. "No, he's asleep now. She wants to release him later tonight, so he needs his rest." Jon's eyes settled on Murtagh and his temper flared again. "Why is he here?"

"Mr. Randall was brought here to apologize for his actions." Snape answered, as if he thought the action was unnecessary.

Jon stood. "Do we know why the fight started?"

"Mr. Randall has not answered that question as of yet." McGonagall answered, anger tinting her voice. "We're about to take him to the Headmasters office for disciplinary action. He could face expulsion."

"That's almost not good enough." Jon growled, looking at the boy. "Why'd you do it, huh? You thinking punching on kids smaller than you is fun? Betcha I can change your mind on that in a hot minute."

McGonagall sucked a breath. "You will do no such thing, Mr. Lionheart."

Jon didn't even look at her. "You gonna answer my question, boy? I want to know why you did it."

"Mr. Lionheart, that is enough." Snape said. "One more outburst and you'll have detention."

Jon glared at Snape before finally backing off. That was the moment Murtagh mumbled something out. "I had to."

Hermione looked at him. "You had to what?"

The boy swallowed. "To be accepted into the group, I had to hit a student. A Gryffindor."

Even Snape looked horrified, but McGonagall asked the question. "And who exactly told you that you needed to do this?"

The boy looked down. "I can't say."

"Why can't you say?" Snape drawled.

The boy shook his head, not saying anything.

McGonagall sighed. "I'm afraid it will be expulsion then, Mr. Randall. I doubt the Headmaster will grant much lenience in this case. Sending a fellow student to the hospital wing, on purpose no less!" McGonagall ushered the boy towards the doors. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Lionheart, lunch is almost over. If you're hungry I suggest you hurry to the Main Hall. Professor Snape, please come with me. Miss Granger, feel free to join Mr. Potter and Mr. Lionheart for lunch."

As McGonagall and Snape took Murtagh from the hospital wing, Hermione came up to Jon. "It was really impressive how you handled everything back in the hallway."

Jon nodded, looking at the curtain hiding Euan. "I guess so."

"I'd ask how you learned all that, but I already know…"

"Enriched education." Jon said automatically.

Hermione squinted at him, almost as if she didn't buy it. "Thought so. Still, Euan's going to be fine. We should head down to lunch."

Once the three students sat down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione filled Ron in on everything that happened.

"Blimey. Who'd have told him to do that?"

"I don't know, but if we find out, they're going to be in a lot of trouble."

Jon scoffed. "That's putting it mildly."

Hermione looked at Jon. "You can't just go and do to them what they did to Euan. Sinking to their level won't do any good. You need to follow the rules. You will follow the rules." Hermione finished her sentence with a glare.

Jon glared back at Hermione. "When you're dealing with someone who is basically ordering attacks on students, slaps on the wrist and expulsions aren't enough. People like that only understand one language. And I'm more than happy to speak it back."

Ron looked at Jon nervously. "Remind me to never get on your bad side, mate."

Hermione looked affronted. "You can't mean that."

"I do mean it, Hermione. I mean every word. The war in America started with garbage like this. Someone pushing their weight over someone else and getting a measly slap on the wrist for their actions."

"Expulsion is hardly…"

"What, you think he can't get an education somewhere else? You think he can't be taught at home, or be sent to another school like Durmstrang or Koldovstoretz? If his parents have enough pull, he can go to another European school easy enough. Expulsion won't make him change his ways. It'll make him angrier, and more likely to do this sort of thing again, and again, and again."

"Sometimes if you want to stop a bully, you have to put that bully in their place. And sometimes that means you get physical. That is the only method I've ever seen actually change a bullies stripes. You can try other methods, sure, but they'll let you down. Find a way to stop a bully from picking on you, and sure, they'll leave you alone. They'll go find someone else to bully. And you know what? Now you're culpable for what happens to the other person."

"The only way to stop a bully is to stand up to them. To make them realize that there's no profit in what they're doing; that it's actually gonna to cost them something. And pain is a steep price for a lot of bullies. Most of them are wimps." Jon looked back to the Slytherin table. "Someone at that table told that kid to attack a Gryffindor student. And when it's found out who, they're going to have me to deal with."

The other Gryffindors sat and contemplated everything Jon said for the rest of lunch, Harry feeling a strange sense of hope at having this new friend.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

The rest of the day passed without incident, but Jon was not the best company for anyone. He spent the whole day silent and steaming. When dinner finally came, Jon was still in a foul mood, and he walked behind the Golden Trio like a brooding bodyguard, and anyone that normally sniggered or pointed at Harry kept their eyes well away from him.

Once they sat at the table, Harry looked over at him. "You're still upset."

Jon nodded. "Yes."

Harry nodded sympathetically while quickly packing food on his plate.

"I feel responsible." Jon said suddenly. "I told Euan I'd be his friend. I haven't even talked to him since the sorting. Maybe if I had, the attack wouldn't have happened."

Hermione, who had been looking at Jon warily all day, now had a softer complexion. "Jon, this isn't your fault. You couldn't have known this was going to happen."

"Hermione's right, mate. There was nothing you could have done." Ron said.

Jon nodded. "Still, I owe Euan a better friendship than what I've given him."

"So remedy that when you walk him back to the tower tonight." Harry said after swallowing some pumpkin juice. "He'll appreciate that."

A loud clapping sound caught everyone's attention, and the entire hall turned to see Dumbledore standing at the staff table. "If I can have your attention please. Thank you. Earlier today, this school dealt with an entirely inappropriate and nearly tragic event. I'm sure most of you have become aware of the fight between two first years in the main hallway. This sort of behavior is not and will not be tolerated by anyone."

"The student that started the fight, Mr. Murtagh Randall, has expressed a deep sympathy for his actions. Given this deep sympathy, I have decided that he will not face expulsion, but instead will serve an extended detention, lasting from tonight until the beginning of Christmas break. He will serve this detention with Professor McGonagall."

There were several murmurs around the hall. Jon gripped the table in front of him so hard Harry thought he might break two fist-sized chunks out of it.

Dumbledore continued. "In addition, Mr. Randall did mention that he was put up to this task by a member of Slytherin house. While he did not name this person, Professor Snape will be looking into who may have given such a disturbing order."

Ron scoffed. "Right. He'll dig real deep too, I'm sure."

"I would like to draw attention to Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Harry Potter, and Mr. Jonathan Lionheart. Miss Granger and Mr. Lionheart discovered the fight, and swiftly brought it to an end." Umbridge seemed unhappy with this. "Mr. Lionheart and Mr. Potter worked diligently to help the victim of this attack, Mr. Euan Abercrombie, receive swift and immediate medical attention, and took him to the medical wing. For their actions in helping a fellow student, I am awarding Gryffindor fifteen points for each of them. Let these students be an example of what Hogwarts should be."

Normally Gryffindor house would have erupted in cheers, but the fact that one of their own had been brutally attacked on request had put the whole table in a very somber mood.

Dumbledore finished his speech. "Now, understand that the staff and prefects will be paying much more attention to what happens in the hallways. We will do everything we can to prevent something like this from happening again. Now, please, tuck in and enjoy the rest of your evening."

Harry grabbed his bags quickly. "I have to run. I'll see you all later."

Ron got up too. "I've got to get to the Quidditch pitch. See ya."

As Harry and Ron left, Fred and George sat down on either side of Jon.

"You've got a knack for finding yourself in the interesting stuff, Mr. Lionheart." Fred said.

"If you're not careful, you'll make us jealous." George said.

Fred picked back up. "All the ladies will be paying attention to you,"

"And they won't give us the time of day." George finished.

Jon grit his teeth. "Is this funny to you two? A kid gets the tar beat out of him and you make jokes?"

Both twins held up their hands. "Easy, Lionheart." George soothed.

"We're not thrilled with what happened either." Fred supplied.

George nodded earnestly. "Been doing a little digging ourselves, but we haven't found anything yet."

"But," Fred continued. "If we ever figure out which ickle Snakey set this up."

"We'll let you know, and back you up." They both finished.

This seemed to appease Jon, but Hermione seemed horrified. "Absolutely not!"

Fred looked at Hermione innocently. "Why Hermione, we're not thinking any permanent damage."

"I am." Jon grumbled.

"Just maybe some life scarring memories." George threw out casually, as if he were dreaming up different ways to torture someone.

"Either way, we can't let someone get away with hurting one of our ickle Lions. Wouldn't be right." Fred said resolutely before the two twins got up and followed Ron out to the pitch.

Hermione looked at Jon. "Jon, please, listen to me." Jon looked up at Hermione, who continued. "Please don't do anything that can get you expelled. I've been paying a lot more attention to Harry this week, and though it's been a tough week, he's looking and acting a lot happier than he was over the last few weeks. The only major change in his life has been the addition of your friendship. Please, don't do anything to risk it. Please promise you'll act within the rules if or when they find out who told that boy to attack Euan."

Jon simmered. Hermione was right. Any ideas Jon had for justice would land a normal student an expulsion. He had to remember that right now he wasn't a Ranger; his authority was non-existent. Growling in the frustration of his circumstances, Jon nodded. "Alright. I promise."

Hermione nodded, clearly relieved. "Thank you, Jon."

Jon shook his head, silently cursing the rules he was confined by.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Around an hour later as Jon and Hermione worked on their homework, and owl dropped a note in front of Jon and flew away. He reached forward and read it.

 _Mr. Abercrombie is ready to be released._

"Is that from Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked.

Jon started packing his paper and books. "Yes. Euan's ready to be released. I'm gonna go get him."

Hermione nodded. "Alright. I'll see you later. Once I have these next couple of inches done, I'll be calling it a night."

"I'll see you in the common room." Jon said as he walked away.

He jogged most of the way from the library to the medical wing, only slowing when he reached the hall leading to the wing itself. As he turned the corner, his eyes caught something shimmering halfway down the hall. Acting as if he hadn't seen it, he kept walking down the hall until the shimmering figure was within arm's reach.

Once they were close enough, Jon sprung forward, grabbing an arm of the invisible student and spun them violently to the left, then pushed them back against the wall, using his weight to keep them pinned. The student squeaked under the sudden impact with the wall.

"Guinevere."

A couple of grunts later and Guinevere Cygnus materialized under him. "You shouldn't be so rough with a lady."

"I'm not really in the mood for games."

She looked down and away from Jon. "Because of the boy. Euan." She looked back up at Jon. "I'm sorry. I would have done something to stop it if I knew."

Jon scoffed. "You're going to tell me you didn't?"

"It's the truth. Try as I might, I can't know everything." Guinevere looked disappointed. "But I do know who told him to do it, and why."

Jon backed off, releasing Guinevere, resting his hands on the wall next to her head. "Who?"

Guinevere looked cautious. "If I tell you, you can't do anything. They'll know someone told you and I won't be able to learn any of their future secrets."

Jon sighed. "I already promised someone I wouldn't do anything that would get me expelled. Whatever you tell me stays between us."

Guinevere thought for a second. "Alright. It was Draco Malfoy."

Jon shoved off the wall violently. "That sack of wine!"

Guinevere flinched. "Apparently the Randall boy wanted to be a part of Draco's group, and Draco decided that there needed to be an initiation of some kind. Beating up on a Gryffindor was the first thing he thought of."

Jon was pacing the hall, breathing heavy. "And unless the Randall kid tells someone what Draco did, he's gonna skate."

Guinevere nodded. "Euan and the Randall kid got into a shouting match over whether Euan could actually do magic. I suppose this gave the Randall boy the opportunity he needed."

Jon stopped pacing and looked at Guinevere. "Thank you, Guinevere. No one will know what you told me."

"You're not going to do anything?"

Jon shook his head. "No. At least, not now. Justice has a long memory."

Guinevere nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it, Jon. I would have if I knew, please believe me."

Jon looked into Guinevere's eyes and saw sincerity. "I believe you. Thank you for finding this out."

She smiled. "You're welcome. Although… You owe me, now."

Jon rolled his eyes. "I owe you?"

"Everything has a price, dearie." She stepped towards Jon, hips swaying. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to collect."

"You should know I won't tell you anything about Potter, Granger or Weasley."

She chuckled. "Oh, I already know everything I need to about them." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Don't worry, oh noble one. Whatever I ask won't put you in a bad spot." She turned and sauntered away. "Remember your promise, Jon. Keep it dark."

When she rounded the corner, Jon shook his head. _'That girl is gonna get me in so much trouble somehow.'_ He let out a huff and pulled his composure back together before entering the medical wing.

As he was walking towards Madam Pomfrey's desk, she looked up and smiled. "Ah, good. You're here." She walked over and pulled the curtain frame away from Euan's bed. "Mr. Abercrombie, your escort is here to take you back to Gryffindor tower."

Euan turned and saw Jon, his eyes lighting up. "Jon!"

A smile spread on Jon's face. "Hey there, kiddo. You're lookin' pretty good."

Euan nodded. "I'm a little sore, but Madam Pomfrey says I'll be better in a couple of days."

Jon's smile went tight. "Well, that's good to hear. You ready to head on back to the dorm?"

Now Euan looked nervous. "Umm. Sure."

Madam Pomfrey rest a hand on Euan's shoulder. "Mr. Lionheart won't let anything happen to you on the way there. And many students from Gryffindor are excited to have you back with them."

Jon nodded. "That's true. A lot of the Lions are worried about you. They'll feel a lot better once they see you're okay. Besides, it should be a fun time. The Gryffindor Quidditch team held tryouts today, and it's Friday. So the atmosphere should be upbeat."

Euan still looked nervous. "You'll be with me all the way?"

Jon walked over to Euan and knelt in front of him. "All the way. Promise. You're my friend, remember? And if you want someone to hang out with in the common room, I'll be there, too."

This seemed to ease Euan enough to be willing to leave the medical wing. "Alright."

"Okay. Let's get going." The two boys left the medical wing and started working their way down the winding halls to the Gryffindor common room. With Euan being sore, the pace was slow. Jon looked down at Euan. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what started the fight?"

Euan looked down. "He said I couldn't do magic. He said I was useless, and he started calling… Me names." Euan sniffed.

"What did he call you?"

More sniffing. "He's said I was… A squib. And a mud…"

"Don't even finish that word." Jon said. He put his hand on Euan's shoulder, stopping him before he knelt in front of Euan. "Listen to me. Okay? This is your first week here. You haven't known you're a wizard for very long, all of this is new, and amazing, and very overwhelming. Very few students can actually perform magic on their first week of school. Even I had trouble my first week of school."

A sniff. "Really?"

"You bet. Some kids get it and they take off, others take a little more time. It's okay. What isn't okay is what he said. You may not know, but that second thing he called you is a dirty word in our culture. You don't call people that. Ever. And for him to say that to you was wrong, dead wrong. There is nothing wrong with you, Euan. Nothing at all. You hear me?" Euan nodded. "Okay." Jon stood back up. "Which class had you gotten out of?"

"We had left Charms with Professor Flitwick, and we were heading for lunch."

"Which charm was the Professor teaching you?"

Euan thought. "Wing-gaurdium Leviosah."

They way the boy said it was all wrong, and it made Jon chuckle. He had heavy emphasis on the "wing," making the word sound like "wing-gaurdium" instead of "win-gaurdium," and his leviosa was heavy on the "a," instead of the o. Easy, and typical, mistakes. "Well, I think I already know part of your problem."

Euan looked up at Jon. "Really?"

"Yep. You're saying the words wrong. It's 'win-gaurdium leviohsa.' Try it."

"Wing-guardium leviohsah."

Jon chuckled. "Closer. Try again. 'win-guardium leviohsa.'"

"Win-guardium leviohsah."

"Better still, but less 'ah' on leviohsa. One more time."

Euan sucked a breath. "Win-guardium leviohsa."

"Perfect! You got it. Do you know the wand movement?"

Euan demonstrated how the movement went. "Like this?"

Jon nodded. "Also perfect. So, if you take what I taught you, combine it with what you know, you can make something fly. Try it in your dorm tonight. Find someone small and light and practice. You'll be an expert at that charm in a couple of days."

"You think?"

"I know."

Euan looked excited. "Thanks, Jon. For… Everything."

Jon ruffled Euan's hair. "Anytime, Euan. It's what friends are for. Speaking of friends, have you made any in your year?"

"Yeah, a few actually." Euan spent the next several minutes walking to Gryffindor tower telling Jon all about his friends that he's made over the last week, and everything they had in common. The whole conversation made Jon happy, knowing that Euan was fitting in well with his own year.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

Jon had been right; Gryffindor house was in an uproar after the tryouts. Ron had been made a keeper, and this made Fred and George extremely happy. They began breaking out bottles of butterbeer and turned the common room into something akin to a New Orleans Mardi Gras.

Jon had been mingling with the twins and Ron, occasionally keeping an eye on Euan, who seemed to be completely relaxed and deep in some enthusiastic conversation with several first years when the portrait door opened, and a very pale Harry stumbled into the common room.

Ron didn't seem to notice Harry's pale-ness or jittery nature and walked up to him carrying two butterbeers. "Harry! I did it! I'm in, I'm Keeper!"

Harry forced a smile and took the offered butterbeer from Ron and that was when Jon saw it. Harry's palm had a lot of blood on it, and the cuffs of his robes seemed to glisten as if they'd absorbed a lot or blood. Ron was completely ignorant of this fact, though, as was everyone else in the room.

' _What. The….'_ Feeling his temper rise again, Jon quickly made for the dorm to retrieve another, more comprehensive, first aid kit. When he got back from the dorm, a large courier bag slung over his shoulder, Jon saw Harry sitting next to Hermione, discussing something of what appeared to be extreme importance.

Jon made a beeline to the sofa the other two students were sitting in, kneeling down in front of Harry and Hermione, both of whom were surprised by his sudden appearance.

"Jon, what…" Hermione started.

"Harry, your hand." Jon said, cutting Hermione off.

Harry looked hesitant to show it to Jon, but then relented, extending his right hand.

The hand was covered in blood, and the blood was running up his arms. His robes and shirt were basically sopped. Hermione gasped. "Harry! What is that!? What happened?"

As Jon started cleaning off a lot of the blood, Harry explained. "Umbridge has me writing lines."

Hermione looked perplexed. "But that doesn't explain the blood."

Jon wiped the back of Harry's hand clean and saw the cuts, deep, angry and still bleeding profusely. "Blood quill." He spat.

"But they're illegal!"

Jon grunted. "What applies to the general population rarely applies to members of government. Government is a body of people, most notably, ungoverned." Jon pulled a couple of tubs with twist lids out of the bag. "You need to report this immediately."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going to create a fuss…"

Jon slapped a moist pad over top of the scar without warning, causing Harry to his in pain. "This goes beyond causing a fuss, Harry. If she'll use those things on you, she'll use them on anyone else in this school. You have to tell Dumbledore."

Harry shook his head, gritting against the pain. "No. I'm not bothering him with this."

Jon pulled the pad off Harry's hand, stopping completely. "You damned Brits and your stiff upper lips."

Hermione looked shocked. "Jon!"

"Sorry." Jon sighed, grabbing another pad and dabbing it in a tan colored paste. "This one will sting a little, but it'll have that closed up pretty quick. If we're lucky, since it's still fresh, it won't scar. How many times has she done this?"

Harry looked sheepish. "Every night this week."

Jon saw red. "Every night!" _'How the hell did I not notice!?'_

"Why didn't you say anything, Harry?" Hermione asked, resting her hands on Harry's right shoulder and arm.

"Ron found out last night, but I was just going to tough it out. I don't want to give Umbridge any satisfaction…"

"Knock it off, Harry." Jon spat. "This is flat out abuse. If this were America, she'd be arrested and on her way to Hell's Pit."

"Hell's Pit?"

Jon pulled the pad with tan cream off Harry's hand and started wrapping it in gauze. "It's our most secure prison. Right in the middle of the Mojave Desert. It's some four-hundred feet under-ground. It get's insanely hot in the day, and dangerously cold at night. No one has ever escaped, and prisoners have been known to die serving their sentences."

Hermione's faced went white. "That's horrible."

Jon shrugged. "Only the worst go there. The one's MACUSA decided weren't bad enough for a Ranger."

"Bad enough for a Ranger?" Harry repeated.

Still wrapping Harry's hand, Jon sighed. "A Ranger is like a British Auror except for one major difference; a Ranger is ordered to kill on sight. When MACUSA sends a Ranger after a criminal, the case is so overwhelming proven that the sentence is issued without a trial, and the Ranger goes and delivers the sentence." Jon charmed the bandage so it was sealed and wouldn't unravel. "There. Keep that wrap on your hand over the weekend, then take it off Monday morning. You'll be fine. Though since this went on for a whole week," Jon ground out, "You'll probably have some kind of scar. Do yourself a favor and don't get detention with her again, comprende?"

"Huh?"

"Do you understand?"

"Oh," Harry nodded, "Yeah. I follow."

"So if you're not going to tell anyone about this, at least tell me what you two were talking about before I interrupted you."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a second, seemingly having a conversation with each other without saying a word. Jon sat looking at the two, trying to figure out what was going on. "Well?"

Eventually, Hermione shrugged, and Harry looked at Jon. "Before I left detention, Umbridge touched my hand and my… My scar hurt."

Jon squinted. "Your… Scar hurt?"

Harry nodded, looking back Hermione who shrugged again. "My scar seems to hurt whenever I'm around something connected to Voldemort." Hermione shivered when Harry said the name. "We're not really sure why."

Jon fell back off the balls of his feet onto his rear, his back leaning against a coffee table behind him. "And when Umbridge touched you, it hurt. You think she's connected to Voldemort somehow?"

Hermione shuddered again. "It's possible, but since Vol… Voldemort is back, it's possible that Harry's scar is just going to ache sometimes. I think Harry should tell Dumbledore…" Harry scoffed. "But he's not going to do that either."

"All Dumbledore cares about is my stupid scar…" Harry mumbled.

Hermione looked at Harry sadly. "That's not true, Harry. You know that."

"Maybe I could… Tell Padfoot?"

"Absolutely not!" Hermione admonished. "You can't risk that."

"Umm, who's Padfoot?" Jon asked.

Hermione and Harry did their silent conversation again. Eventually, again, Hermione relented. Harry turned back to Jon and leaned forward. "This can't be told to anyone. Ron already knows, but no one else can, okay. It's extremely important to me."

Jon leaned forward and nodded. "If it's that serious, I'll take a vow." Jon extended a hand.

Harry looked at it for a moment. "No, I trust you." He took a deep breath. "Padfoot is Sirius Black. My godfather."

Jon nodded. "He's the one that escaped from Azkaban, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but he's not a criminal. He was framed."

"Oh gee. Imagine your Ministry getting something else wrong."

Harry chuckled. "We've been in contact, and he's even back at his own home. But no one can know because he's still technically a fugitive. We haven't been able to clear his name yet."

Jon nodded, understanding why Hermione and Harry were so worried about the black dog at the station now. "You have my word, Harry. I won't tell a soul." Jon paused, looking at Hermione. "Why can't he tell… Padfoot, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Padfoot. And he can't tell him because an owl can be easily intercepted. That would put Harry and Padfoot at risk."

Jon nodded. "Solid point."

Harry grumbled. "Fine. I won't tell him. I'll tell no one."

"Please don't be like that, Harry. I'm…" Hermione looked at Jon. "We're just trying to help."

Harry sighed, looking suddenly exhausted. He wiped his face. "I know." He got up. "I'm going to go to bed. Tell Ron I said goodnight."

Hermione stood suddenly, stretching and yawning. "No, I'm going to bed, too. I'm exhausted, and I want to make some more hats tomorrow." She looked at Harry hopefully, and nervously. "You could help, if you'd like. It's actually a lot of fun, very relaxing, and you can make all sorts of shapes and designs."

Jon looked at Harry who seemed to be conflicted, then back at Hermione who seemed… Hopeful. Nervous. And… _'I've seen that look on another girl…'_ Before Harry answered, Jon tossed out a thought. "Why not, Harry? Knitting can be a useful skill, plus it's quiet and calm. And even if you don't like it, there's worse ways than to spend a few hours in the company of a really great… Friend."

Hermione shot Jon a thankful glance as Harry nodded slowly. "Alright. Sure. After Quidditch practice?"

Hermione almost bounced. "Sure! Thank you, Harry. I promise we'll have a good time. At the very least a calm time. You could do with some." When Harry turned to go back upstairs, Harry mouthed a 'thank you' to Jon before she turned and went upstairs herself, awfully bouncy for someone so tired.

As the two boys made their way through the crowd and up to their room, Harry looked at Jon. 'That was a bit weird, then, the way Hermione was acting. Didn't make much sense."

Jon smiled ruefully. "Oh, it will, Harry. It will."

O – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o -o

 _There it is._

 _I'm making Draco darker than he was originally written. I didn't like the jerk at all when I read the story and was positively angry that things went the way they did for him. Without spoiling too much, things are going to change for that sick little sonuva…._

 _Anyhow._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm a little iffy about a few parts, so it might get a revision in the future. Maybe not, I'm not sure. We'll see how the story progresses._

 _Sorry for the late update. I think it's safe to safe expect slow updates on this story until otherwise informed._

 _Predictions about Harry and Hermione? (evil laugh)_

 _I hope where I was trying to type out the pronunciations of words wasn't too confusing. If it was, or if anything else was clunky, let me know. I'll tweak it up._

 _Well, that's all. Comments and reviews are always welcome. Ideas, too. I'm always open to ideas._


	11. Weekend Happenings

_Chapter 11. Oh snap! And sooner than I promised._

 _Don't get used too used to it; I promise this was a rare opportunity to write._

 _Thank you, again, to everyone who reads, fav's, subscribes and reviews. A little motivation never hurt nobody._

 _I promise we're getting closer to the good stuff._

 _Let's get this party started, eh?_

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o_

 _"Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs."_

 _William Shakespeare_

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o_

Dawn was breaking over the grounds of Hogwarts as Jon made his way around the quidditch pitch for his morning run. He had added some stops for push-ups and found a spot where he could do some chin-ups off a doorway to the pitch; this made his runs a bit slower, but more fulfilling.

This was his second time around the pitch, and as he came around into full view of the castle, he stopped and put his hands on his head and took in the sight. _'Okay,'_ He thought begrudgingly, _'It's a bit more beautiful than Ilvermorny. Stupid Scottish Highlands.'_

As he stood there looking over the grounds, a chirp from above caught his attention. Lance was perched on a flag pole, looking down at Jon curiously from the quidditch pitch. "Hey pal. How ya been?" Lance jumped from his perch and gracefully flew down towards Jon, who extended his right arm for Lance to land on. "Gently, please." Jon muttered.

Lance landed gracefully on Jon's arm, then wobbled over to Jon's shoulder, sitting perched like a pirate's parrot. "You doin' good?" Jon asked. Lance bobbed his head. "Eating alright?" Lance bobbed his head. "Miss me?" Lance bobbed his head. Jon laughed. "I missed you too, pal."

Looking around to see if anyone else was up and about, or if there were any shimmers in the light, Jon walked out of sight of the castle and pulled the letter from Tobias Webster from the inner pocket of his track jacket, sitting down with his back against the wall of the pitch. "I gotta sit for a second, buddy. Hang on." Lance grasped Jon's shoulder tightly as Jon sat down. "Got a letter from Tobias, Lance. Wanted to read it alone."

 _Jonathan,_

 _I know you weren't expecting to hear from me so soon, or at all. The opening of the MACUSA Embassy was a surprise to me as much as it must be to you._

 _I received a letter from Headmaster Dumbledore informing me that you had been doing very well thee, both as a student and as a friend for Harry. I'm glad things have gone the way we had hoped. It makes me very happy that you are making friends and building a new life for yourself, even in the shadows of such darkness._

 _This brings me to the main reason for writing this letter. As much as I do not want to tell you, I must; we have now confirmed that Voldemort did indeed plant the seeds of rebellion amongst the pureblood families here in America. At least one family, the Belby family of California, had planned to pledge allegiance to Voldemort once he rose to power again._

 _We can now also confirm that Voldemort is indeed back. On her mission to re-establish relations with the Wizarding Council of Greece, Constellation was attacked by a group of Voldemort's followers who call themselves Death Eaters. The ship is fine, and only minor injuries were suffered. One follower of Voldemort was captured, and he admitted to everything under questioning._

Jon shuddered. If Voldemort had followers as far south as Greece, where else could he have followers? And how strong of a fighting force could he muster when he decided to stop playing his game of shadows?

 _This is why the embassies are being opened. This kind of co-operation between wizarding communities is unprecedented before in history, but Voldemort is a threat nearly without equal. We are trying to use what happened in America as a message of why such co-operation will be required now, and in the future, to prevent anything like this from happening again. As you well know, you can destroy an entire army, but ideas are much more difficult to destroy._

 _Unfortunately, while we are making strides in forming alliances, I need you to understand a few things. While our embassy there is willing to help you, there isn't really anything they can do. Supplies are about the only thing they can give you. They have absolutely zero pull with the Ministry, and there is no military contingent currently stationed there. This is something we are trying to remedy, but as of now, you are still very much on your own._

 _Second, it is crucial that you keep as low a profile as you can. Dumbledore included in his letter your feelings towards one Draco Malfoy, and the incident with Dolores Umbridge. I understand that it's going to be very hard for you to keep your head down and not immediately fight for what you know to be right, but you must try, Jon. With at least one family here in America having a known connection to Voldemort, we are doing everything we can to ensure your identity remains a secret. Please don't do anything that would jeopardize you cover; the Ministry will remove you if you're discovered._

 _Know that everyone here who knows where you are and what you're doing supports you completely. Celeste misses you terribly, and several of the younger students you took under your wing have asked about you. Young Abigail Hancock transfigured an old textbook to a cavalry hat of the Seventh Rangers and she refuses to take it off._

 _I am very proud of you, Jon, for taking on this immense challenge. I know you will do your best. Just remember to try and reign in the impulses that have become second nature to you. I have the utmost faith you can do it._

 _With complete confidence,_

 _Tobias Webster_

Jon took an unsteady breath. The situation was now much worse than he had even considered. Voldemort had been a major factor in the war. A lot of the pain and suffering Jon had endured was now tied to the monster trying to destroy the world he knew. Beyond that, trying to destroy Harry Potter, someone Jon now considered a friend. This meant that anywhere Harry was could be dangerous, including Hogwarts. "We've got to stop it Lance." Jon reached up and started scratching the back of Lance's head. "We can't let them suffer what we suffered." Lance gave a mournful chirp.

Jon looked back out over the grounds as the sun continued to rise. It was an uncharacteristically clear day for the area so far. A little fog still lingered on the grounds, but the sun was burning it off. The castle shone in early morning brilliance, and signs of life were starting to appear around the castle. Jon reached up and wiped one tear off his face. The last thing Jon wanted to see was another school damaged or destroyed. Something told him, though, there was no escaping it again.

While he sat trying to figure out how he would handle all the challenges that were coming, another chirp from Lance, this one a tone of question, made Jon look back up. A flicker light reflecting off something caught his attention. Focusing his eyes on what it was, he smiled. Luna Lovegood was skipping down a path from the castle to the woods carrying a small bag.

Jon stuffed the letter back into his jacket, chuckling. "Hang on, Lance. I'm getting' up." Once again, Lance grasped tightly into Jon's shoulder as Jon stood up. "Have you met Luna?" Lance looked at Jon puzzled. "Take that as a no. C'mon, I think you'll like her."

Jon started walking to the path Luna had been skipping down. It led down into a edge of, what Jon had been told, was the Forbidden Forest. He hadn't been able to get anyone to tell him why it was named that, but he checked to make sure he had his wand. Or three. After checking and finding all three still snugly in place, Jon entered the forest.

The path led to a small clearing in a bowl, and it was filled with several thestrals and cheerful Luna Lovegood. Luna had knelt and was reaching out to a thestral foal, offering it something to eat. She was wearing a light blue sweater that accentuated her dirty blonde hair that was worked into a messy bun. Radish earrings dangled from her ears and a necklace made of butterbeer caps laid around her neck. A yellow skirt covered her legs; except for her ankles and feet, which were oddly, bare. An amused grin came across Jon's face as he came up behind her. He was about fifteen steps away when…

"Hello, Jonathan."

Jon stopped, feeling confused. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Oh, a Blibbering Humdinger. They often float around people, trying to fill their minds with silly things. This one was quite aggravated; your mind is too strong for it to distract. You're one of the few people I've met that can keep one at bay." Luna's voice maintained her normal ethereal tone, but Jon could tell she was dead serious about what she said.

Lance let out one low, long chirp and Jon just blinked. "I've… Umm. I've never head of a Blibbering Humdinger, Luna." Lance looked at Jon with squinted eyes, as if he were trying to say, ' _Because they're not real, you idiot.'_ Jon cast a sideways glance to his eagle who eventually stopped glaring.

"Oh, that's not surprising. They've never migrated to North America before."

"Well, that's good then. Plenty of things in America to distract people, anyway."

Luna giggled. "I imagine so."

Jon stepped up beside Luna. "So, what brings you out here this morning?"

Luna reached out to pet the thestral foal she had just given a piece of meat to. "I come out here to see the thestrals every year and give them treats. So many of the students can't see them, and those that do usually stay away. It's a shame, really. They're very gentle creatures. Majestic, too. Don't you agree?"

Jon looked over the small herd in the clearing. He'd seen thestrals before, just never this close. They looked like the legendary Pegasus, except their dark skin, red eyes and bony appearance did give them a sinister appearance not befitting their attitude and personalities. They were very gentle, and graceful. The older ones, anyway; the young one in front of Luna was clumsy on its feet and kept stumbling everywhere it went. "They are a certain kind of beautiful. Gothic, almost." Jon supplied.

Luna _hmm'd_ in agreement. "That's a good way to describe them." She finally looked up at Jon. "So this is your eagle."

"Huh? Oh, Lance. Yeah. He's mine."

Luna stood, wiping dirt and leaves off her skirt. "I figured as much. I saw him on the train, but he never came up as a topic of conversation." She extended a hand. "May I?"

Jon lifted his right arm for Lance to shuffle down, bringing him closer to Luna's height. "Yeah, sure. He's fairly gentle. But he doesn't like it when you pet against his feathers…"

No sooner had Jon said that, Luna started petting against the direction of Lance's feathers. Much to Jon's surprise, though, Lance chirped happily, leaning into Luna's hand. "Well, he doesn't like it when I do it…" Jon mumbled.

Lance looked at Jon with a _'What?'_ kind of expression.

Luna giggled. "He's very expressive."

Jon nodded. "Yeah, he's pretty unique."

As soon as Luna pulled her hand away, Lance launched himself into the air, flying straight up and out of the forest, heading in the general direction of the Black Lake. "How did you two come together?" Luna asked.

"I was out in some woods one day and I stumbled onto a group of… Bullies." Jon said. This wasn't really a lie, just a vague description of a bunch of kids in the R.W.A that were killing woodland creatures because they thought it was fun. "I managed to stop them, but they'd already killed his mom and siblings. He was hurt, but alive. I carried him to a small Native American village; they had a caretaker for magical creatures. He helped me save Lance. As Lance grew up, he just… Attached himself to me. We've been together ever since. I kinda wanted him to stay back home, but he actually bit me when I suggested it."

Luna smiled. "He's a lovely eagle. I understand you worry about him being alone, but I think he'll be fine. Especially if he means as much to you as it sounds. He'd be immensely miserable if you had left him back home."

Jon nodded. "You're probably right." A thought hit Jon. "Luna?"

"Hmm?"

"Thestrals can only be seen by those that have seen death."

Luna nodded. "Yes, that's true." Her ethereal voice sounded a little dampened.

"If you don't mind me asking, how can you see them?"

A flash of sadness crossed Luna's face, but it passed as quickly as it came. "My mum. She loved to create new spells and was constantly experimenting. One day, one of her experiments went badly wrong. I was nine."

"I'm so sorry, Luna."

"Yes. It was rather horrible. I try not to think about it."

' _Just how hard can I hex myself?'_ Jon thought.

"Don't feel bad about asking. It's a normal question that comes to people's minds." Luna said, her voice back to its normal, dream-like quality. "Can I ask how you can see them?"

Jon swallowed. "Well, I suppose it'd be because of my mom and dad. They were killed when the war first started. Oh, that's the…"

"The American Wizarding Civil War. Yes, I read a bit about it. It sounds terrible."

Jon nodded. "It was. My family stood strongly against the pureblood agenda. As a result, some men came to our ranch and killed them."

Luna looked at Jon, sympathy apparent in her large eyes. "I'm sorry, Jon."

Jon shrugged. "It's in the past. There's nothing I can do about it." He took a breath. "Let's get off this miserable topic, eh? What, umm…" He looked down, remembering her bare feet. "Where are your shoes?"

"Oh." Luna looked down, wiggled her toes, then looked back up at Jon. "All of my shoes have seemed to disappear. I suspect the nargles are to blame."

Jon felt his temper rise, but when he looked into Luna's eyes it was as if someone dumped a bucket of water over a fireplace. "Umm. Nargles?"

"Yes. They take my shoes almost every year. They always return them, though, close to the end of the year. Well, mostly. Last year they didn't. But I was outgrowing those shoes anyway, so it didn't matter much."

Jon needed to look away, unable to form a coherent thought staring into Luna's eyes. "Well, that's something, I guess. Aren't you cold, though?"

She shrugged. "A bit, but that's alright. I prefer being barefoot anyway. It's more liberating."

Jon nodded. "Well, that's… Also understandable."

"Oh my."

Jon looked back at Luna, again getting lost. "Oh… You?"

Luna nodded. "Yes. It's the Humdinger. It seems he's finally managed to get to you. Your thoughts are all wishy-washy."

' _I don't think it's a humdinger…'_ Jon thought. "Well, that's not good. I'd like to… Have some coherent thoughts. What, um… What do you suggest?"

Luna smiled. "We should go for a walk. Maybe back to castle. Breakfast wasn't ready when I left, it should be now." She paused with a dreamy look on her face. "I do hope there's pudding."

Jon chuckled. "Pudding does sound good. And I need to clean up."

Luna looked him up and down. "Yes. You are a bit muddy."

Jon turned and held an arm out, pointing back up the path. "Ladies first."

Luna giggled and started walking ahead of Jon. "What do you think of Hogwarts?" She asked.

"It's nice. The school is beautiful, so are the grounds. The staff seem okay; there's a couple I'm not keen about. And most of the students are okay folk. Though once again, there's a few that could stand an attitude adjustment."

Luna nodded. "Yes. Some of them can be quite mean sometimes. But most of them are very nice." She paused. "You've made quite an impression so far."

Jon felt his cheeks get warm. "Wasn't exactly the goal."

"It's bound to happen when you have such a strong personality."

Jon chuckled. "The mountain cannot bow to the wind."

Luna turned and looked at Jon, a small smile on her face. "That's a funny saying. Where does that come from?"

Jon shrugged. "Ancient Chinese proverb, I think."

Luna tilted her head to the side, looking Jon over again. "Yes. Definitely a mountain." She turned and started walking again.

Jon shook his head and started walking himself. "So, what's your favorite class?"

"Oh, I'd have to say… OUCH!" Luna stepped on a thorny vine, cutting her foot open and starting to trip.

Jon stepped up behind her and caught her gently by her shoulders. "Yeah, that's my favorite too." He found a stump that would make a good spot to sit. "Here, come over here." Once he had Luna settled on the stump, he pulled her foot up. "Let me take a look."

It wasn't a large cut, but it was deep, bleeding and there was a thorn stuck in it. Jon cursed himself for not having any kind of med kit. Luna seemed to be pouting. "I'm not sure where that came from. I walked out here just fine. And I walk without shoes all the time."

Jon chuckled. "Well, they do call it the Forbidden Forest. Maybe this is why." Luna giggled while Jon conjured some bandage strips. "It's not terrible. Madam Pomfrey will be able to patch you up. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do as I left all my stuff back at the castle."

"I'm not sure I can walk on it." Luna admitted.

"Then I guess I'll carry ya. Ain't that far to the castle." Jon looked Luna in the eyes, hoping there wasn't a lot of tint to his cheeks. "That okay with you?"

Luna, however, went very pink. "I wouldn't mind."

"Okay then." Jon scooped her up and started carrying her back to the castle, Luna wrapping her left arm behind his neck.

"I'm not too heavy, am I?"

Jon shook his head. "Light as a feather."

"That's good." Luna set her head against his chest as he carried her back.

The walk was silent until the two of them entered the castle. Professor Snape was monitoring the main hallway and saw Jon carrying Luna. Swiftly and smoothly he strode over and intercepted the two of them.

"Is there a reason you're carrying Miss Lovegood, Mr. Lionheart?"

"Yes sir. She cut her foot outside on a thorn. I didn't have anything to help this time, so I conjured some bandages and now I'm taking her to see Madam Pomfrey."

Snape remained expressionless. "And why were you walking around barefoot, Miss Lovegood?"

"I'm afraid the nargles have made off with my shoes, Professor. I'll try to look for them after breakfast."

Snape raised one eyebrow. "Nargles? No, Miss Lovegood, more likely your housemates are pulling a rather tired joke on you. Speak with your prefect about your shoes. As it is, five points from Ravenclaw for you walking the grounds barefoot."

Jon's expression turned to a glare, but Luna only nodded. "I understand, Professor."

"You will want to hurry up, Mr. Lionheart. Breakfast is already been served, and you are in desperate need of a cleanup."

Jon wasn't as good as Luna at keeping his tone neutral. "Yes, sir." He clipped, then started going up the stairs towards the medical wing.

Luna set her had back on Jon's chest. "He can be a little cruel sometimes. I think he had a rough time as a student."

"That doesn't give him the right to take it out on current students. He should be better than that."

Luna nodded. "Yes, but some people have a harder time with who and what they should be than you or I Jon."

Jon looked down at Luna. "You're right. I still don't like it."

"I know. You're very strong willed about what's right and what's wrong. It must be very difficult when life gets a little gray."

Jon nodded. "Sometimes." He was starting to worry that Luna could read a lot more than his face.

As they entered the medical wing, Madam Pomfrey saw them come in and she rushed towards them. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to be bringing me a lot of injuries, Mr. Lionheart?"

Jon smiled. "I promise this was an honest accident. Luna cut her foot on a thorn and I didn't have what was needed to take care of it. I did bandage it, but there's still a thorn in her foot and it'll probably start bleeding again."

Pomfrey nodded, but still looked concerned. "Why were you walking around barefoot outside, dear?"

"Oh, the nargles hid my shoes again." Luna answered matter of factly.

Pomfrey took it in stride. "Well, whatever the nargles have been up to won't do us much good now. Over here, Mr. Lionheart. Set her on this mattress and I'll patch her up." She turned back and looked Jon up and down. "Then you'll want to get cleaned up. Did you honestly go looking for every muddy spot on the grounds?"

Jon chuckled. "It's been raining for almost a week. Your entire island is a muddy spot."

Pomfrey scoffed. "Boys and their reasons." She left to go grab some supplies.

Jon laid Luna down on the mattress. "There you go. You'll be sorted in a jiffy."

Luna smiled. "Thank you, Jon. But you might want to be careful. Carry me too many more times and the school might think you like carrying me."

Jon grinned. "Well if you're not careful, the school might start to think you like having me carry you." The two students blushed before Jon cleared his throat, looking Luna in the eyes, fighting to keep a coherent thought. "I should go. See you later, around school?"

Luna nodded. "I'm sure the wrackspurts will bring us around again."

Jon laughed. "No doubt, Luna." The smile that was on Jon's face left as soon as he turned around. _'Not at all convinced it was nargles.'_

Jon moved quickly through the school looking for someone specific. He found her with a group of friends just about to enter the Great Hall. "Padma!" He called.

Padma looked and saw Jon marching towards her. She left her group and met him halfway. "Hey, Jon. I head you were carrying Luna to the med wing?"

Jon nodded. "I did, she's up there now."

"What happened?"

"Oddly, she cut her foot open on a thorn."

Padma winced. "That must have hurt. Was she not wearing shoes?"

"No. Oddly enough, Luna says nargles have hidden all her shoes."

Padma's face fell. "Nargles."

Jon nodded. "Yep. Nargles. Now, I'm not really that great with magical creatures, so I won't debate whether nargles exist or not. But let me ask, why do you think her shoes went missing?"

"Someone must have taken them."

"And that someone, or several someone's, is in Ravenclaw house." Jon crossed his arms. "What happened to trying to change how people saw and treated Luna?"

Padma sighed. "I… I had a talk with everyone, this should have stopped."

"Well it didn't." Jon shook his head. "You're gonna need to do a lot more than give a speech, Padma. Get your house in order."

Padma looked angry. "I'm the prefect here, not…"

"Then start acting like it."

Padma gave Jon a dirty look and a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

Jon shook his head and turned around, walking back up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. "You have no idea…" He muttered.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

The rest of the day had been quiet and relaxing. Initially Jon had wanted to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice, but Hermione suggested that would be a bad idea.

"Unless you want detention, or worse, I wouldn't go if I were you."

Jon looked confused. "You get detention just by watching practice?"

Hermione shook her head. "I saw Draco and a few of his friends heading out to the pitch. With minimal supervision something tells me you'd have no incentive to not demonstrate your," she held up her hands and made air quotes, "'enriched education.'"

Jon held a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I can't believe you think I'd get into trouble with no one to watch out for the little blonde rat…"

"My point exactly."

"And why do you go," Jon mimicked Hermione's hand quotes, "about my education? It was war time, we needed to learn a lot and fast."

Hermione seemed conflicted. "But you know _so much_ more than the rest of us…"

"Are you training for a war?"

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"There you go."

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just… A lot of us work really hard for the level of knowledge you already have. Sitting there, watching you just go effortlessly through some of our toughest classes…"

"You feel jealous." Jon supplied, and Hermione nodded. "I get it, Hermione. But believe me, it really is just an enriched education. Classes on top of constant drills. Sunrise to sunset. Sometimes even longer. That's all it is, Hermione. And you know full well I don't know everything."

"I know. I'm sorry."

After that conversation, Jon left Hermione to re-work her essays for the week as Jon went and enjoyed the rest of the day. While he stayed clear of the Quidditch pitch, he did decide to fly his broom around, since he hadn't had the opportunity to fly it since Celeste gave it to him. Pushing it as hard as he could, he soon found the everything Celeste had promised was true. This broom was the fastest he'd ever ridden, and the smoothest. It turned amazingly tight for its speed, and the solid construction gave you the confidence to try anything you could imagine. It also had a very distinctive whistle at high speeds, loud and eerie; enough to scare anyone if you buzzed over their heads.

He flew for about an hour, looping, pulling hammerheads, Wronski feints, corkscrews and flat spins. He stopped flying and hovered high above the grounds, taking in the scenery from the sky. _'Nope. Still more beautiful than Ilvermorny.'_ Through his flight goggles, the Scottish Highlands were the perfect combination of the Appalachian and Rocky Mountains of the United States, and there was no doubt in Jon's mind he was falling in love with the place.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

Later that evening, Jon, Harry, Hermione and Ron were tucked into a corner in the common room. Harry and Hermione were working on hats for the elves, while Jon and Ron were locked deep in a game of Wizards Chess.

Both sides had lost half of their units, and Ron was squarely on the defensive. Jon had his hands crossed together in front of him, resting his chin on his fingers, while Ron's head moved like a typewriter, constantly scanning the board for moves.

"Bishop to C5." Jon called. The bishop moved to the square Jon commanded.

"I don't get it." Ron mumbled.

Jon looked up at Ron. "Don't get what?"

"I've never had anyone give me such a run." Ron said. "It's like you're reading my mind." He scanned the board again. "Rook to H5." Ron's rook moved to threaten the bishop Jon just positioned.

"What's the matter, Ron? Jon giving you a run for your money?" Hermione called, a level of smugness in her voice. Harry chuckled at her comment.

Jon sat up suddenly and snapped his fingers together. "Hey, I just caught it. You and me," he pointed between himself and Ron. "We could open a surf shop!" The other three looked at Jon completely confused. "You know, Ron-Jon? The surf… Shop? Nothing?" Blank stares greeted him. "Oh for cryin' out loud… Knight to H5."

Jon's knight repositioned itself, drew a broadsword and smashed the hilt over the head of the rook, knocking it out and carrying it to the edge to the board.

"Why didn't I see that!?" Ron cried.

"Long day?" Jon asked innocently.

Overlooking the board again, there was no major piece now that Ron could use to protect his king. He had one bishop and one knight, plus a few pawns; neither his bishop or knight were in range to stop Jon's last rook from shuffling Ron's king into a checkmate. Ron sighed. "I call it, mate. Well played."

Jon extended his hand. "It was. Best two out of three?"

Ron shook his head. "No, I think I'll try to crack out some homework before I go to bed."

Hermione looked at Ron shocked. "Ron Weasley is going to pass up a game of chess to do some homework?"

"Maybe he's not well." Harry suggested.

"Ha ha," Ron called, looking at the two. "At least I'm not knitting clothes for elves. Honestly. Mental." Ron got up and went up the stairs to the dorm.

"He's not used to losing Wizard's Chess." Harry said.

Jon grabbed a book he's brought from the window beside the table he was sitting at and moved from the table to a couch behind Harry and Hermione, laying across the sofa with his head on an armrest. "Well, he's a really tough player. That could have gone either way."

Hermione looked up at him. "Just something else you're exceptionally good at?"

Jon felt his face get warm. "Wizard's Chess is a fun game that if you play it long enough, you will get good at it. It's not my fault."

"Hermione," Harry mumbled. "He doesn't like the attention."

Hermione resumed her knitting. "You could join us, if you wanted. I'm willing to bet knitting socks and hats is something you're probably not good at."

Jon chuckled. "Exactly why I'll not be joining you in any way other than company." Jon lifted his book up and started reading

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Sunday was another relatively calm and relaxing day. Harry and Ron had spent the earlier part of the day wrapping up their last homework assignments, Hermione had talked with all of her girlfriends, and Jon spent the day doing some mild tutoring with Euan and a handful of other first years who were struggling with some charms.

It was now getting close to eleven that night. Hermione and Harry were once again working on hats and socks for the elves, and Ron and Jon had gone back to wizard's chess. They'd played four games, each person winning and losing two each.

Hermione started laughing at a mistake Harry made. "And Ron thinks my hats look terrible!"

Harry looked hurt. "I don't see anyone else volunteering to help you make these!" There was teasing tone to his voice.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, and I really appreciate it Harry." She put a hand on one of his knees. "Maybe, though, you can just keep me company from now on. I only have so much wool." She said, laughing again.

Harry laughed too. "Deal, Hermione."

Jon had turned to watch the two in their own little world. Hermione and Harry sat there for several seconds, Hermione with her hand on Harry's right knee, and Harry with his hand on her arm. They sat like that for several seconds, looking at each other, neither pulling away or moving forward.

Ron noticed too. "Oi! What are you two about?"

The two broke apart and started knitting again. Well, Hermione did. Harry sat back and watched. Ron shook his head. "Mental." He muttered.

Ron returned his attention to the game and the chess match resumed in earnest. After several minutes of moves, counter moves, and pieces being removed, Hermione broke the atmosphere.

"Umm, Ron…"

"Not now Hermione. I think I've got him."

"But Ron…"

"Ssshhhhh!"

Hermione got up, but it was Harry who spoke next. "Ron, I think Hermes is in the window."

Ron's face went from one of deep concentration to one of complete confusion. "What!?"

Hermione pointed to the closest window. "That's what I was trying to tell you. Look!"

Ron looked and realization crossed his face. "Blimey." He got up, walked to the window and opened it, allowing the screech owl to hop in, holding it's leg out to Ron. "I wonder what Percy's writing me for?"

After Ron pulled the scroll away from the owl, it turned and flew back into the night. "Definitely Percy's handwriting…" Ron mumbled.

Hermione seemed anxious. "Open it, Ron."

Nodding, Ron unrolled the scroll and began to read. As he read his face went from confusion to anger, and finally to disgust. "That bloody git!" He thrust the paper towards Hermione, Harry and Jon. "Read it! Go on!"

The three teens read the letter, each one reacting in their own way, and each reaction negatively. Jon reacted audibly first with a whistle. "Wow. With a brother like that, who needs enemies?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, Ron. I mean, if you want to… How'd he put it?"

"Sever ties?" Hermione answered.

"Yeah, that's it." Harry confirmed. "If you want to sever ties with me, I promise I won't get violent." He laughed. "It's actually kind of funny."

Ron yanked the letter out of Harry's hands. "He. Is. The world's. Biggest. GIT!" Ron tore the letter into several pieces and threw in into the fire violently. "The next time I see him I'll give him a piece of my mind." Ron spun and looked at Jon. "We have a game to finish."

As the two boys returned to their chess match, Jon found he was suddenly impressed with Ron's loyalty.

The chess match didn't last long after, as Ron's anger turned him into an absolute madman. Any patterns or predictability Jon had learned was tossed out the window, and since Jon had been playing a more defensive match from the start, he found himself quickly defeated. Jon looked up at Ron impressed. _'Keen mind for strategy. And he will stand up for what's right. You just gotta push him a little. Good to know.'_ "Well played, Ron."

Ron huffed and sat back in his chair. "Thanks." A pause. "I'm done. Honestly, I swear I could just…" His mood swung again from anger to confusion. "Harry? What on earth are you about?"

"Wha…" Hermione stifled a giggle. "What are you doing, Harry?"

Harry was crawling from in front of the sofa himself and Hermione had been sitting at to the fireplace."I thought I saw Sirius's head in the fire."

Ron's eyes widened and he looked at Jon, almost as if he were afraid of Jon hearing this. Hermione sighed. "It's alright Ron. Harry's already told him."

Ron looked relieved. "Whew."

"I don't think you saw him, Harry. With him being wanted and the Ministry knowing he's in London, it's too dangerous for him to use the floo like that."

"Use the floo like what now?" A new voice called out.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed.

In the fireplace was the face of a man with a heavy shadow and long black hair framing his face. "Yes, pup, it's me. I was a little worried you'd have gone to bed. There were too many students in here the last time I took a quick peek."

Hermione sat in front of the fire place and crossed her arms as Jon and Ron stood behind her and Harry. "You could have been seen, Sirius."

Sirius waved a hand. "I think a student might have seen me earlier. He was a bit older, but he didn't seem to pay any attention. He was too busy talking to a girl."

"Still," Hermione said, sounding as if she disapproved. "It's a bit of a risk."

He waved again. "Nonsense. Besides, it was the only way I could answer Harry's letter without risking it being intercepted." He looked back at Ron. "Hello, Ron. You're looking well." He looked over at Jon. "Ah. You must be Jon Lionheart. Harry mentioned you in his letter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jon nodded. "Pleasure's mine, sir."

"Wait." Hermione interrupted, looking at Harry. "You wrote Sirius a letter? When!? You didn't mention it to us."

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I forgot, honestly." Hermione gave him a hard glare. "Oh come on, Hermione. I was careful. There was no way anyone could have figured out what I was asking about, was there, Sirius?"

Sirius grinned. "No. It was a very good letter. But still, we need to be quick. Now, about your scar…"

"What about your scar…" Ron started to ask, but Hermione whacked him in the leg.

"Later, Ron."

Sirius continued. "We're not convinced it's really anything to worry about. I know it's not fun; like having a migraine all the time. But we don't think it means much. Besides, it kept hurting all last year, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Dumbledore mentioned it happens whenever Voldemort feels a strong emotion." Ron and Hermione flinched at the name, but Jon made no new motion, except to look around the room, making sure they were still alone.

"So maybe he was just angry that night." Sirius suggested.

Harry shrugged. "Sure. It's possible, I guess."

"And now that he's back," Hermione supplied. "It's probably going to hurt more often."

Sirius nodded, but Harry still had something on his mind. "So no one thinks it could be related to Umbridge touching me?"

Sirius shook his head. "I doubt it, pup. While I know her reputation, I'm confident she's no Death Eater."

"She's foul enough to be one." Harry grumbled. Ron nodded vigorously while Hermione rubbed Harry's back soothingly and took hold of one of his hands.

Sirius sighed. "Yes, Harry, but the world isn't split into Death Eaters and good people. It's much more complicated than that. I know her reputation, though. You should hear Remus talk about her, he has absolutely nothing nice to say."

"Lupin knows her?" Hermione asked.

"No. But like Death Eaters and their blood supremacy, Umbridge hates part-humans. She wrote a piece of legislation two years ago against werewolves that made it practically impossible for Remus to get a job. She also campaigned to have mer-people rounded up and tagged." Sirius laughed. "S tupid thing to suggest, really, especially when you have little demons like Kreacher running…"

"Sirius Black!" Hermione admonished. "Honestly, if you'd make the effort to treat Kreacher a little better than you do, he'd probably become much easier to be around. You are the only family he's got left, anyhow."

Everyone sat stunned for a moment from Hermione's outburst until Sirius broke the silence, clapping his hands together. "Right. Well, what are lessons with Umbridge like? Is she teaching you how to slay half-humans?"

"Actually," Harry started. "She's not letting us use magic at all."

"All she lets us do it read from the book." Ron grumbled.

"And the book is woefully deficient." Jon spat, Hermione nodding her head in agreement.

Sirius chuckled. "Well, that's expected. Everything we've heard says that Fudge doesn't want you all trained in combat."

"Trained in combat!?" Harry, Ron and Hermione chorused. "What's he afraid we're going to do," Hermione asked. "Start a wizarding army?"

Jon immediately perked up at the thought, and Sirius noticed. "Actually yes, that's exactly what he's afraid of. Especially since Jon showed up."

Everyone looked at Jon who pointed to his chest and an innocent look on his face. "Me?" The he looked thoughtful. "Well, I guess I can see it. I mean, you Brits did lose two wars to us Americans. In our own backyards, too."

Hermione tried to elbow Jon's knees, but he jumped back in time. "You prat."

Sirius laughed. "Not sure that's got anything to do with it. See, Fudge is convinced that Dumbledore is trying to raise his own army and take over the Ministry. Add to that they know what kind of education Ilvermorny has been giving their students over the last few years, and the fact that MACUSA is making all kinds of demands for diplomatic relations but they're not giving any of the same concessions. There's several members inside the Ministry, of who Fudge might be one, who think MACUSA is hiding something. And they think that something is you, and Dumbledore's efforts to take over the ministry."

Jon drummed his fingers together maniacally. "Yes, yes. It's taken us almost two-hundred and fifty years, but finally we shall infiltrate and destroy the British government. Muahahahaha!" Everyone was looking at Jon like he was crazy. He coughed. "Sorry. I thought it was funny."

Harry chuckled. "It is a bit far-fetched if you ask me."

Sirius chortled. "Well, no one's asking you pup. Haven't you heard, you're mad!"

Harry and Sirius laughed before Harry asked another question. "What about the _Prophet_? Do you know if it'll have anything about Dumbledore in it? Ron's brother hinted something might be."

Sirius shook his head. "I haven't a clue. No one from the Order has been around here all weekend; it's just been me and Kreacher."

"So there's been no news about Hagrid, either?" Hermione asked.

"Well, he was supposed to be back by now. On one's got a clue what's taking him so long." Harry, Ron and Hermione looked like their favorite dog had been kicked. "But Dumbledore isn't worried, and neither am I. Hagrid's a little eccentric, sometimes. Likes to explore at the most inconvenient times. I'm sure he's fine." Sirius said.

"It's been a long while, though." Hermione whispered.

"I'm sure he's fine. He had Madam Maxine with him for most of the journey. They did get separated coming back, but nothing suggests he's in trouble. Stop worrying, and don't ask too many questions about where he is. All you'll do is draw attention to the fact he's not there." Sirius rubbed his hands together. "Now, when is your next Hogsmeade weekend? I thought I'd come up there, seeing as how we got away with the disguise on the platform…"

"NO!" Hermione and Harry shouted.

"No?" Sirius was perplexed.

"We don't think you got away with it." Harry said.

"Didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_?" Hermione asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, I saw it. They're always guessing where I am. Honestly, though, they haven't got a clue!"

"They might this time." Hermione said.

"Draco Malfoy said something on the train ride here. It sounded like he knew it was you on the platform. His father, you know, Lucius Malfoy, was there. If you come up here, he'll recognize you…"

Sirius looked hurt. "Alright, fine. I just thought you might like to get together again."

"I would." Harry said adamantly. "I just don't want you getting chucked back into Azkaban."

This made Sirius seem like he was disappointed in what Harry said. "You know, Harry. You're less like your father than I thought. The risk is what would have made it fun for James."

Now Harry looked hurt. "Sirius…"

"I think I need to go. Kreacher's coming and we wouldn't want him to catch me. I'll send you an owl to set up a time for us to talk again, yes? If you think you can handle the risk." With a pop, Sirius Black was gone.

Harry fell back into a sofa, looking like he'd just let down his hero. "He doesn't get it…"

Hermione moved and sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "He's just frustrated, Harry."

"Harry, what does Sirius mean to you?" Jon asked.

Harry sniffed. "He's… He's the only family I have left, really. He was my fathers' best friend. He…"

Jon nodded. "I get it." He sighed. "He sounds like a man of action." Harry nodded. "Well, Hermione's right, then. If he's stuck in one place, it's… Frustrating. Plus it's obvious he likes you, and wants to spend time with you. Sometimes… That desire can blind someone to things like caution. They take offense to it, if that makes sense." Harry didn't seem cheered up. "I'm sure it'll be okay, Harry. Talk to him next time about how you feel, about why you worry."

Hermione nodded. "He'll understand Harry."

Harry nodded. "I hope."

Ron yawned. "Why don't we sleep all this off?"

The four teens started making their way to bed.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

 _And there we go, chapter 11._

 _As a side note, I discovered an error in the last chapter and fixed it. It was about George and Fred. Just a light error, easily fixed. Sorry._

 _I hope you liked this chapter._

 _Sadly, expect a delay in updates from this point on, and I really mean it this time. I just got blessed with a couple extra days to write and took advantage of it._

 _Also, I'm including a deleted scene I wrote._

 _So I wrote this particular moment, but decided to cut it. I'm letting you all read it… For giggles, I guess._

 _I decided to cut it for several reasons. For one, it's too heavily based in other pop culture. I don't mind a reference now and then; a lot of them can be funny and perfect for the moment. But this was practically built on references, so I pulled the plug._

 _Another reason is character driven. Jon is trying, desperately, to behave the way that he needs to behave to avoid getting into trouble, or worse, thrown out. After I wrote this, I realized that there was no way Jon would be able to get away with his actions here; he'd wind up in detention or, yes, even worse, expelled._

 _So I had to pull it. But since it was written, and a slightly more childish part of me enjoyed it, I decided to share it as a sort of deleted scene._

 _o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o – o – o - o_

Looking back down over the school Jon saw two groups of students leaving the Quidditch pitch, and the first kid in the second group had blonde hair. _'Malfoy.'_ Grinning madly, Jon dove and pushed his Mustang as hard as it would go. Under one hundred feet, Jon started pulling back and levelled out with less than ten feet of altitude. Streaking like a bullet he raced for the line of students walking from the pitch, shouting out a rebel yell as he flew overhead, his Mustang whistling like a mad demon. Every kid in the second group fell face flat on the ground; at least one of them, most satisfyingly, screamed as if they were witnessing a murder.

The first group, the Gryffindor's, chanted and hollered as Jon climbed straight up for three hundred feet, pulled a hammerhead stall to the right, and shot back to the first group of students, coming to a gentle hover next to Harry and Ron. "Beautiful day to go flying, isn't it?" Jon asked, a massive grin on his face.

Harry and Ron came to either side of his broom. "Bloody brilliant, mate!" Ron yelled.

"Poor Ickle Snakies," Fred and George shouted towards the Slytherin students who were picking themselves out of the dirt, brushing off each other's clothes. Draco looked both angry and white as a ghost.

"I think you scared Draco into speechlessness." Harry laughed.

Jon pulled his goggles off. "I'd settle for scaring him into a new pair of pants." The whole group of Gryffindor's laughed, except for Angelina, who was marching up to Jon angrily.

"If you can fly like that, and have a broom that fast, why didn't you try out for the team?"

Jon shrugged. "Didn't want to. Just 'cause I can fly a broom doesn't mean I'm any good at Quidditch. I never played back at Ilvermorny, and I've got enough on my plate just… Getting adjusted."

Angelina crossed her arms. "Well, consider joining next year. The team could use someone as fast as you."

Jon gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

The Slytherin's marched up to the group, Draco still white as a ghost, pointing angrily at Jon. "You could have killed us!"

Jon looked at Draco amused. "I don't know what you mean, Draco. I was just flying over you. That's not something dangerous to do." Jon maneuvered his broom a little closer to Draco. "Unless you're telling me you've never seen a fast broom before?"

"I've seen plenty of fast brooms. I'm the best broom rider in the school."

Jon kept talking as if he hadn't heard him. "It can be kinda scary, that first time. The speed… Makes your heart do funny things."

"I already said I've seen…" Draco was growling.

Jon interrupted him again. "Were you the one that screamed like a little girl?"

Draco snapped. He lunged forward and grabbed Jon by his jacket, dragging him off his broom. Jon, however, had been hoping for this reaction. He twisted himself so his left arm would fall behind Draco's neck. Once his arm was wrapped around Draco's neck, he twisted again, writing himself and causing Draco to fall head-over-heels and onto his back.

After the two students landed, Jon rolled away from Draco, working himself into a squat roughly ten feet away. Draco flung himself up. "You arse…" Draco went for his wand.

Jon put his right hand on his. "Do it, Draco. Skin that wand and see how far you get."

Draco thought for a moment, then his temper won out and he pulled his wand and called out a stunning hex.

Jon yanked his left hand in front of him, flicking his wrist and causing a second wand to slide into his hand. Holding the wand sideways, a massive blue circular shield appeared, deflecting Draco's hex and knocking into Crabbe, who fell backwards, moaning. Drawing his main wand, Jon shot his right arm forward not saying anything, and Draco's wand came flying towards him.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

 _Another reason I included this was my action scenes, as noted in a story I wrote a while ago, were noted as not being completely believable. So I wanted to toss this out there and see if anyone had any suggestions or notes on what was okay, and what could have been done better._

 _That's all. Again, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and the deleted scene. Like I said, expect it to be a while for another update, but I promise this story is not abandoned in any way._

 _Thanks for reading, faving and subscribing. Comments, suggestions, and error corrections are appreciated!_


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